


Sin City

by justtoogaytofunction



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, Las Vegas, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sex, stripper!darren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtoogaytofunction/pseuds/justtoogaytofunction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The week before his Glee audition, Chris heads to Las Vegas, expecting a fun, soul exploring trip before heading to LA to find work. But once he meets Darren, an out of work actor now working as a stripper, things take a different turn. Between the alcohol, sex, arguments and one drunken white chapel mistake, can Sin City provide true love?</p><p>Part of the CrissColferBigBang2015 challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin City

**Author's Note:**

> For plot reasons, this is an AU where the legal drinking age in the USA is 18
> 
> Unless it's for text form, please ignore the random words in bold. I suck at editing, forgive me

Chris can’t believe he’s doing this. He had thought about it, a curiosity that had been hushed to the back of his mind as he decided to book a hotel in Las Vegas, but never decided upon it. Yet here he is, showing his ID to the bouncer with a weak smile as he walks into the strip club.

It was a quieter one, one which Chris had noticed on the drive to a club the first night he got here. The luminous sign had been hard to miss- neon lights booming out the words ‘Gay’ and ‘Strip Club’ which had been bouncing round his head ever since seeing it. Despite the very idea of even looking at a strip club for more than five minutes scaring him, it was the undefeatable hunger to adventure into the world of embracing his sexuality which pushed Chris through the door. Well, that combined with the several shots of vodka he had forced down his throat back at his hotel room. And now he was here, he didn’t quite know what to do.

Looking around, it appears to be just a normal bar at first. But then he notices the poles and dancers, muscular men dressed in just thongs walking around the place, mingling with the other customers before disappearing into the back rooms with them. Other dancers are twisted around poles, legs sprawled in a display of flexibility, attention given to the package between their legs, unavoidable bulges hidden only by the thin, clinging material of their underwear.

Suddenly, Chris feels self-conscious. He can feel the glances of other people in the bar, knows that people are looking him up and down. And it’s in a sexual way. He’s just walked in a gay strip club, just made an open statement about his sexuality. Underneath his black button up shirt, his heart is racing. Sweat begins to form on his forehead, his bangs beginning to stick to his face. But he can’t just walk out now. Taking care not to make eye contact with anyone, he walks firmly to the bar, practicing his order inside his head.

 _Vodka and diet coke, vodka and diet coke_ , Chris repeats to himself silently, knowing he’ll probably mess up the words anyway. He’s just about to take a seat and make eye contact with the bartender before there’s a firm hand on his shoulder.

‘Hey,’ an unfamiliar voice says in his ear, causing him to jump before turning around. He’s faced with a large, gray haired man, old and already slurring his words. He must be in his fifties, Chris notices, shrinking away slightly.

‘Hi,’ Chris coughs out, grimacing. ‘Do I- do I know you?’

‘No, but I’d like to know  _you_ ,’ the man says again, ignoring Chris’ lack of enthusiasm. ‘Let me buy you a drink?’

‘I’m waiting for someone, sorry,’ Chris lies, trying to brush the man’s hand away where it still lies in a tight grip on his shoulder.

‘Doesn’t matter to me,’ the man says again, now looking at the barman. ‘What do you want, sweetie?’

Chris about to stutter out an excuse about leaving and get up and go but someone stops him. A softer, gentler voice to his left interrupts his movements.

‘Are you okay?’

Chris looks around, expecting to see another creepy guy standing before him. But it’s not. Instead, there’s a beautiful, tan skinned man standing tall next to him, dressed in only a leopard print thong. His body has somehow balanced out muscular with a petite frame, a small waist accentuating the man’s large thighs and biceps. His skin seems to be glistening- and maybe it is- because there are beads of sweat formed on his armpits and forehead, where his curly back hair has begun to stick. But the man still smells like he’s just got out the shower- no, better. It’s a scent Chris hasn’t smelled before, some expensive cologne no man wears in Clovis.

‘Hi,’ Chris smiles weakly, forgetting the man’s question. He’s almost forgotten he must be one of the strippers, the forbidden thought of getting a drink with  _this_  man entering his head.

‘Hey,’ the man grins back at him, shouting over the music. ‘You okay?’

Chris shrugs, trying not to stare at the man’s body.

‘I guess?’ he shouts back.

‘You know, I’m meant to offer the customers dances- but you don’t really look like a customer.’

Chris stares back confused.

‘I mean, you look like you wandered in here by accident- are you even 18?’

‘I had my birthday in May,’ Chris says, glaring now. He’s perfectly aware how he could still pass for 12.

‘Okay, sorry- I had to check,’ the man smiles. ‘I’m- I’m Gabriel. Do you want to go into the back? You look like you could get out of here.’

‘For a dance?’ A streak of nervousness enters Chris’ stomach, dancing round and making him feel sick.

‘Well, yeah,’ the man who’s called himself Gabriel replies- and Chris can’t quite believe that’s his real name. ‘But we can talk too.’

Before Chris can stop himself, he takes hold of the man’s open hand and follows him round the bar, through a door, along a corridor, and finally, past a bouncer and into a private room. It’s small and dark, lit just enough to make out the gentle ripples of muscles on Gabriel’s torso but still dim enough to flatter both of them. There’s a pole as well, something Chris furiously tries to avoid eye contact with, relieved when Gabriel gestures to a chair for Chris to sit down in, ignoring the pole to focus on Chris.

‘What kind of song do you want?’ Gabriel asks, absentmindedly, stretching out his arms and swinging them around his body.

‘Am I meant to choose?’

‘Not usually, but you look so…not scared, just like you accidentally drifted in here? I thought I’d let you.’

Chris blushes profoundly, looking down at his feet.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry,’ Gabriel blurts out, nodding at the bouncer who’s still stood by the door to go. Usually Gabriel likes to keep them there, is reassured by the extra set of eyes on the customer which helps keep things safe. It’s up to him, whether they stay or leave, and as there is absolutely nothing threatening about this boy, Gabriel would prefer to get to know him alone. ‘You-you look fine. More than fine. Cute- wait fuck no, not cute, you’re- how old are you again?’

’18,’ Chris blushes, wishing he could get away with looking older. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing here, I should go-‘

He gets up slightly, moving from the chair he’s in. But Gabriel holds out a strong arm, pushing him back in his seat. It’s nice, the touch. Gentle but firm, a clear gesture of want, of requiring Chris to stay. The warmth of Gabriel’s hand makes Chris’s skin tingle, every nerve in his body pounding.

‘No,’ Gabriel whispers. ‘I promised a dance, and I’m gonna give you one.’

There’s a stereo in the corner of the room, which Gabriel walks over to briskly, flicking a switch on it. And Chris knows the song within the first few notes. Unmistakably, the filthy tune of  _Candy Shop_ by50 Cent begins to pound in the room, taking Gabriel’s body with it.

Gabriel’s not looking at Chris, instead facing the wall in front of them, his back to Chris. As Gabriel wraps his arms around him tracing his hands up his torso in time with the music, Chris watches in wonder at the way the muscles on his body tense up and move, ripples of flesh hinting at the muscular figure in the dark, a single light from the ceiling illuminating him. Gabriel lets his knees slack slightly, dropping his waist to the side and beginning to move his hips, curving them to the music. He takes a step back then, getting closer to Chris before facing him, moving closer, body moving to the music as he dances. Chris is practically frozen now, save from the slight rush of blood to his pants, cock stiffening slightly, showing a keen sign of interest at the display before him. As Gabriel makes a move to sit on Chris’ lap he walks away again, teasing Chris as he takes a firm hold of the pole in the room, hands wrapping round it before he hoists himself on to it, beginning to dance.

The sight is magical. Chris has only seen things like this online before. Porn mostly, of hot, naked muscular men showing off their bodies. And three times, once his family had gone to bed, Chris had watched the movie ‘ _Magic Mike’_ , watching in awe at the dance scenes of pure, uncensored  _sex_ , moves and positions Chris could only dream of seeing in real life. Yet here he was, sat on a small red chair in a private room as Gabriel danced in front of him. The way he moves is fantastic, no sign of struggle or pain on his face as he bends around the pole, spinning, turning upside down and- most memorably- grinding his hips up against it. Chris is pretty sure this is all Gabriel’s going to do, and is far from complaining, but thirty seconds before the song stops, he gets off, walking towards Chris once again.

When he starts to give Chris a lap dance, Chris is positive he’s going to cum. Rock hard and aching in his pants, Chris avoids eye contact as Gabriel practically mounts him, legs sprawled over the sides of Chris’s chair as his crotch rests inches away from touching Chris’s body, rolling forwards as the music goes on. If he knows the effect it is having on Chris, he shows no sign of it, stopping for nothing as his moves become slower, more sensual and rhythmic, his hands now grasping onto Chris’s shoulders and encouraging the boy to look at what’s happening , to take in the scene.

All too soon, the music stops.

‘Well,’ Gabriel smiles, getting up and grinning at the boy in front of him, still sat down on the chair. ‘That was your first dance, am I right?’

Chris can’t talk. He nods instead.

‘Did you like it?’

Chris nods again, trying to restore some dignity by crossing his legs.

‘Where you going now?’

‘Huh?’

‘Well, are you gonna stick around at the bar or what?’

‘I-I’ll probably be going,’ Chris mumbles, finally regaining some strength in his legs as he gets up to leave. ‘How much do you cost- well, I owe you- how much do I owe you’

His stuttering comes out more like a question than anything else. But Gabriel pushes Chris’ wallet away, shrugging.

‘It’s cool man, you don’t have to pay. It was my pleasure- no, really,’ he nods at Chris, who’s raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

‘I want to pay, I owe you,’ he insists, looking through his wallet for some notes.

‘No, really,’ Gabriel shakes his head. ‘Look, if you really want to give me something, let me take you on a date.’

Chris thinks he misheard.

‘What?’ he almost yelps, staring wide eyed at Gabriel.

‘A date- I‘m serious! I’d love to see you again.’

‘Even though I’ve just used you for a lap dance like every customer who comes in here?’

‘Hey,’ Gabriel laughs. ‘You make a nice change from all the creepy men I get in here. So, you up for this date or not?’

‘I guess.’

‘Cool, here’s my number. Call me,’ Gabriel smiles, punching it into Chris’s phone. He writes the name of his contact too- ‘Darren Criss’.

‘Darren?’ Chris reads confused.

‘Oh, yeah…I may have lied about my name before,’ Gabriel smiles. ‘It’s a stripper thing, you know?’

Chris doesn’t, he really doesn’t, and is left standing there as Gabriel-  _no, Darren_ ,  _he thinks_  tells him to text him as soon as he can, before disappearing out the door and heading back to work.

Somehow, Chris makes it out the club. And it’s not until the cool evening air whips around his face that he’s brought back to reality, the evening’s events hitting him hard. He just went in a strip club **.**  He got a lap dance. The stripper gave him his number. Half convinced this was all a dream. Chris calls a cab, stumbling back to his hotel room and pinching his arm several times as he looks in his bathroom mirror, whispering his name to the glass.

‘I am Chris Colfer,’ he says softly, eyeing his refection with drunken suspicion. ‘I am Chris Colfer and I have a date.’

 ----

 It’s a headache which wakes Chris up the next day, the dreary pounding of regretted alcohol swimming in his head, forcing his eyes open as he feels his heartbeat too loud and exaggerated in his chest, bladder protesting and mouth begging for teeth to be brushed. He remembers the night before all too well. Gabriel- _Darren_ , he corrects himself- had displayed the most amazing dance his eyes had ever witnessed. And miraculously, a man’s number had ended up on Chris’s phone.

Chris isn’t sure how that happened. Somehow, alcohol had taken him away from the inexperienced boy he was in high school and made him jump on board the fun train. He’d never even  _talked_  to a gay person before this trip to Vegas, yet yesterday he had not only been talked to, but positively been flirted with.

 _‘Call me’_  Chris remembers Daren saying, as he gets up to pee (god, his stomach hates him right now), swiping through his phone to look at the number. How soon should Chris call? And what the hell would he say?  _Hey, this is the really young boy you probably regret giving your number too. What’s up?_  No, that wouldn’t go down well. Shaking slightly, Chris punches in a text.

 ** _‘Hey, it’s Chris’_** , he writes. ‘ ** _How are you?_** _’_  It’s 3pm, not too early or too late to send it, Chris decides. And if there was no reply- well, Chris wouldn’t be heartbroken, but he’d be disappointed. And for once, he’s actually allowing himself to admit that. All previous crushes on boys had always ended in the inevitable watch of their Facebook status go from  _single_  to  _in a relationship_  and always with a girl. Now Chris was in a new world of neon lights, nonstop traffic, and the blurriness of alcohol and affectionate men who were certainly not straight. It was a new world, which permitted feelings to be acknowledged.

There’s not an immediate text back, so Chris decides to take some much needed gulps of water and shower before checking his phone again. As the shower starts, he looks down at his body. It’s nothing special, he decides. No muscle, just a little puppy fat he still can’t seem to shake off. His bangs are pressed against his forehead from the shower, and his face still carries with it the youth of a 14 year old. It’s unattractive, he tells himself. He must have been crazy to think someone could be into this. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up – what was he even thinking? He should never have come to Las Vegas in the first place. Stepping out of the shower, he wraps a dressing gown around himself, purposely walking past his phone without so much as glancing at it. Preparing to snuggle up to a blanket and nurse a tub of Ben & Jerrys, Chris puts on a Harry Potter DVD, wanting to forget about everything.

The film hasn’t even properly started before Chris’ phone buzzes. Excitement washes over him, head turning to his phone instantly.  _It’s probably just my network provider. Or mum_ he tells himself. But the adrenaline rushing through his body whispers that this is not the case.

When he’s reached his phone, his stomach knots itself. There, on the screen flashes ‘ _(1) New Message- Darren_.’ Hands trembling slightly, Chris opens it.

 ** _Hey!_**  It reads.  ** _I’m good, wbu? You wanna meet up sometime?_**

Chris replies quickly, before he can overthink it.

**_Feeling a little hungover :P I’d love to meet up though_ ** **.**

He doesn’t know what came over himself. A tongue smiley??? He cringes. What is he, twelve? But Darren doesn’t seem to mind, sending back a reply.

**_Well I’m free today. There’s a nice café opposite the club we were in last night?_ **

**_Sounds good_ ** **_J_ ** **_What time?_ **

**_You free in about an hour?_ **

 Acid rises up in Chris’s throat. He has never felt so nervous.

**_Sure ;)_ **

 

Chris doesn’t have a clue what to wear. Nothing he brought from home seems to fitin here. Whilst in Clovis, nobody paid attention to what you wore and Walmart was considered perfectly adequate, here in Las Vegas, people’s outfits were more extravagant than he’d ever seen. Deciding upon what is probably the least offending, Chris settles on some dark blue jeans with a black t shirt. And after checking himself in the mirror several times, he decides in a desperate attempt to gel his bangs back. He rarely uses hair gel, and isn’t sure if it looks good or not. But now he only has fifteen minutes to call a cab and get to the café and he doesn’t want to be late. He dreaded to think what would happen if he did. What if Darren gave up on waiting and found someone else to talk to? What if Darren came to his senses and realised he didn’t like Chris after all? Or worse- what if this was all a joke? Chris was used to being the butt of jokes. Shrugging, he decided that if it was just a joke, it was cool. He was used to it.

Chris is just about to leave when he gets a phone call from Darren.

‘Hello?’ he asks nervously, trying to ignore the fluttering of his heart.

‘Hi!’ comes Darren’s eager response. ‘Listen, slight emergency- I’m not going to be able to make it after all.’

Chris’s heart drops. Shrugging he wanders back to the sofa, sitting down and preparing himself to hear whatever excuse Darren has. It’s okay, he shouldn’t have expected to be going out anyway.

‘So I’m having like, plumbing issues?’ Darren says. ‘My shower is broken and there’s water everywhere and I’m waiting for a plumber to show up- you know how they are, they won’t turn up until at least two hours. And I’m kind of stuck here waiting for them to show up. So seeing as I can’t leave my flat, do you want to come round to mine?’

 _Oh_ , Chris thinks, a small smile breaking out on his face _. Darren does want to meet up with him after all. At his house._

 _‘_ Sure,’ Chris replies, trying to sound cool and not  _too_  interested. ‘Where do you live?’

‘I’ll text you the address. I’m so sorry I can’t come out,’ Darren says, and truly, he does sound sincere.

‘No, no, it’s fine. I’ll see you soon, okay?’

‘Can’t wait,’ Darren replies.

Moments after Chris hangs up, he gets a text from Darren with an address on. Calling a cab, Chris is again left to feel like he’s doing something crazy. Going round to a stripper’s house? In Clovis that would be a sure way to get murdered. But here? Anything could happen.

The cab ride only takes ten minutes, but by the time Chris pays and steps out, he’s already sweating slightly, nerves causing the back of his t shirt to stick to his neck, heart thumping in his ears as he enters the apartment complex which Darren lives in. Checking his phone again to make sure he’s going to the right place, Chris goes up a flight of stairs to Darren’s door and, swallowing hard, knocks.

\---

 

There’s a mumble of movement inside, before, all too quickly, the door opens. Chris is almost startled at the figure opposite him, inhaling deeply as he looks at Darren.

Quitethe opposite of what he looked like in the club, Darren’s dressed in casual tracksuit bottoms and a gray t shirt, hair curly and unkempt, bouncing around on his forehead. He’s got a light coat of stubble and thick dark eyebrows- something Chris hadn’t noticed last night. But what strikes him most is Darren’s smile. Wide and broad, Darren looks genuinely  _thrilled_  to see him, as if a puppy had just seen their owner after being separated for a week. The way Darren smiles is just infectious though. Chris starts smiling too, looking into Darren’s eyes, admiring the thick lashes which framed them.

‘Hey!’

‘Hi,’ Chris grins, a mixture of nerves apprehension and excitement settling into his stomach. ‘So, here I am…’

‘Here you are! Come on in!’ Darren gestures Chris to come inside, closing the door behind him.

In any other situation, Chris would feel nervous about this. Going to a stranger’s house without telling anyone and letting them shut you in is certainly not the safest thing you could do in an unfamiliar city. But somehow there’s just an aura of trust which Darren gives out, a sense of innocence and welcome – not exactly what Chris expected from a stripper.

‘So the living room is just through here,’ Darren says, showing no signs of nerves which makes Chris feel slightly more at ease. He takes Chris into an open plan room, showing a simple kitchen connected to a living room, a comfy gray sofa in front of a TV with a dining table and chairs next to it. ‘And through that door is my bedroom and through  _that_  door…well, that’s the bathroom, which has a floor more resembling a swimming pool right now.’

Chris gives a small laugh at that, sitting down on the sofa as Darren does so.

‘So how are you?’ Darren asks, looking genuinely interested.

‘I’m good,’ Chris nods. And, in a moment of sheer honesty, ’feeling a little crazy though…going round to a strippers house is not what I’m usually doing.’

Darren chuckles, nodding.

‘I know, once I tell people what I do they always seem to be a little surprised. So what are you usually doing? You in college, looking for work, or what?’

‘I’m actually on my way to LA,’ Chris explains. ‘Looking for some acting work down there but thought I’d stop here for a week on the way.’

‘Nice! So you’re an actor?’

‘Well, I’d like to be.’

‘Wouldn’t we all,’ Darren says. ‘You said you were 18, right?’

Chris blushes, looking down at his converse.

‘Yeah. Just graduated.’

Darren looks Chris up and down, taking him in.

‘Thought so- not that that’s a bad thing!’ he hastily adds after seeing Chris’s expression.  **'** You just look young! I wish I looked younger.’

‘Everyone says I look young,’ Chris says, rolling his eyes. ‘How old are you?’

’21,’ Darren smiles. ‘Is that alright?’

Chris shrugs, not really knowing how to respond.  _Alright for what?_  He thinks.  _Is this a date, or a hook up, or what?_

‘Yeah?’ Chris responds, questioning more himself than Darren. Darren’s younger than he looked in the club, now free of leopard print thong and hair gel; he looks more carefree and friendly.

‘So, what do you want to do?’ Darren finally asks, breaking the silence where Chris is staring at Darren. ‘I’m stuck here until the plumber turns up, but we could watch a movie and order takeaway?’

‘Yeah,’ Chris smiles. Movie and takeaway. He could do that.

‘What do you like?’ Darren says, picking up his phone. ‘There’s a good Indian place near here, or we could get Chinese- there’s a Dominoes too. What do you want?’

‘Dominoes?’ Chris suggests. ‘What do you want?’

‘Pizza sounds good to me. Know your topping?’

‘Chicken and olives,’ Chris replies automatically, saying his go –to food. Darren nods approvingly.

‘If I get sausage are you going to want some of mine?’

Chris looks up, startled.

‘Will you want to share pizzas?’ Darren clarifies, chucking as he starts to dial the number into his phone.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Chris nods, furious with himself. All he had heard was ‘sausage’ and ‘some of mine,’ so of course his dirty minded brain had jumped to  _that_  conclusion. But then again, his answer would still be the same. Sitting down on the sofa, he realises with somewhat reluctance and somewhat excitement, that  _fuck_  he is attracted to Darren. And if Darren purely was using him as a bootycall, he honestly wouldn’t mind.

But then Chris’s mind drifts to the fact he’s a complete  _virgin_ , only ever receiving a few rushed handjobs from his girlfriend in high school, which were the most awkward minute long fumbles he could remember. After the third one, Chris really couldn’t bear it anymore, which was when he broke up with the poor girl and had to admit to himself that yep, he was gay. The bullies had been right all along. Now in Darren’s flat, gay doesn’t seem so bad any more. It seems exciting, fun and adventurous. But still, Chris can’t dive headfirst into the world of gay sex- as much as he’s like to. But he’s ready, he knows that.

Darren finds a DVD, Aladdin, he tells Chris, with a smile. He asks if that’s okay with Chris, glad at Chris’s response.

‘Yeah! I love Disney movies,’ Chris laughs, making himself comfortable on the sofa. ‘Still a young kid at heart.’

‘Same. Like, they never grow old do they? I’d kill for a musical version of this though.’

‘Yes! That would be great.’

Darren sits himself next to Chris, not too close to make things uncomfortable, but close enough to Chris to show that he’s definitely interested. To say Chris is attracted to him is an understatement. Chris wants nothing more to do than to rest his head on Darren’s shoulder and snuggle up to him. But he’s still uncertain. He doesn’t know much about Darren after all. What made Darren come to Las Vegas to strip? And where did he even grow up? Darren’s still very much the handsome stranger, and how Chris ended up sitting on his couch is a mystery.

Soon enough, the pizza comes, interrupting the beginnings of a conversation about the best Disney films. Darren leaps up, answering the door. Paying, he comes back to the sofa, handing Chris a box.

‘How much was it?’ Chris asks, getting out his wallet.

‘No, no, you’re not paying!’ Darren says, eyebrows shooting up in determination. Chris can’t help but notice how they look like little furry triangles, as if some miniature creatures had laid to rest there. ‘I’ll pay.’

‘But-‘

‘No,’ Darren says, interrupting him. ‘A gentleman always pays in the first date.’

Chris freezes, mid bite of his pizza.

‘So this is a date?’

Darren shrugs, questioningly.

‘Well yeah, if you’re okay with that? I mean- if you want it to be just as friends that’s cool, but I’d like this to be a date.’

‘Okay,’ Chris smiles. ‘More to the point- you’re a gentleman?’

There’s a twinkle in Chris’s eye as Darren reaches forward to playfully punch him, laughing.

‘I’m trying!’ he chortles. ‘Admittedly, it’s not the classiest date, but still, pizza and Disney, are you complaining?’

‘No, no,’ Chris smiles, for once forgetting that he doesn’t like how he looks when he smiles. He’s unguarded, surprised at how relaxed and at ease Darren makes him feel. ‘Do you usually go on classier dates then?’

‘Nah,’ Darren shakes his head, swallowing a large bite of pizza. ‘To be honest I don’t really date- I mean, I’ve been on, like two since in the last year, but nothing ever serious. I just haven’t found the right person, you know? What about you?’

Chris blushes.

‘I’ve never had a boyfriend,’ he says. ‘There was even a girlfriend at one point, but no boyfriend.’

‘A girlfriend?’ Darren smiles. ‘Wow you’re brave.’

‘It ended pretty quickly. And everyone in my hometown is straight so yeah.’

‘Or pretending to be.’

They both laugh at that, swapping pizza slices.

‘You want some of my sausage?’ Daren winks, taking a chicken slice from Chris. ‘I’m just kidding,’ he smiles, laughing at Chris’s response. Chris just refuses to make eye contact, focusinginstead on the pizza.

‘You’re terrible,’ Chris finally mutters. ‘Aren’t we gonna watch this movie?’

‘Okay, okay. Aladdin time it is.’

They don’t really concentrate on the movie in the end though, instead delighting in exchanging tales from high school and getting to know each other. Darren seems to come from a different world entirely to Chris- brought up in San Francisco, welcomed into the gay community. It sounds like a fairy tale; Chris can only imagine what that freedom must be like. The plumber Darren’s been waiting for turns up eventually, stopping by for only a few minutes before telling Darren he doesn’t have the right tools for the job but will be back tomorrow. Darren sighs at that, visibly frustrated, and shows a deep line of worry in his forehead when told the cost of fixing the job. But once back on the sofa and sat next to Chris, he seems relaxed again.

‘So how did you end up being a stripper?’ Chris asks at one point, curious for Darren’s reply.

‘Believe me, it wasn’t on purpose. Came here to do some music, but the industry’s tough. Rent’s high, food needs to be bought, so here I am.’

‘So you’re a musician?’

‘And an actor- don’t mind which I work in. My brother Chuck, he’s more of a musician than me. Ever heard of Freelance Whales? No? Well my brother has this awesome band, they play in quite a few bars round here- you should catch them sometime.’

‘You should take me to see them.’

‘It’s a deal.’

Darren also asks how long Chris has left in Las Vegas for. Finding out he’s only going to be here for a few more days before embarking on his LA adventure, Darren eyes him jealously.

‘Damn, man. Wish I could come. I’d love to head down there for a while.’

‘You should go too,’ Chris tellshim. ‘You never know what job you could land.’

‘I can’t, I’m pretty much stuck here till I earn enough to leave. But then I will, that’s a promise. Talking of work-‘Darren looks at the clock. ‘I gotta be heading there soon. I just wish my shower was working, the shower at work broke down last week.’

‘You could shower at mine,’ Chris shrugs.  **'** I live like, ten minutes away.’

Darren’s face lights up.

‘Could I? I’d appreciate that so much.’

‘Sure, when do you want to go?’

‘Well the sooner the better, really. Are you okay to go now?’

Darren has his bag packed in ten minutes, Chris trying not to look at the assortment of thongs and leather waistcoats Darren chucks into his sports bag. There’s an alarming amount of glitter too, blue, silver, gold and rainbow colours in tube’s crudely marked as ‘STRIPPER GLITTER’ which Chris can imagine didn’t come from your average fancy dress store. Chucking in some sweatpants, a t-shirt and some shower things, Darren announces he’s ready to go, locking the apartment door as he and Chris get a taxi.

Darren’s in a rush when they get to Chris’s, admiring the hotel room but admitting he may have dragged out their date too long as he has to be at work in forty minutes. Chris figures the least he can do is make Darren a mug of tea whilst he showers, trying not to imagine what Darren looks like right now, wet and  naked under the spray of water. When Chris hears the water turn off, he tries to make himself look busy by opening the fridge under the pretenceof putting the milk away, but Darren interrupts him, startling him.

‘Hey, so erm, can I borrow a towel?’

Chris turns around and drops the bottle of milk he’s picked up.

Standing in his kitchen is Darren, naked. Soaking wet and covering his crotch with two hands. And by the looks of it, there’s quite a lot to cover.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ Darren rushes, watching Chris hastily pick up the milk. ‘I just didn’t know if I could use the towel in the bathroom, and I forgot to bring one of my own…’

‘You can have this,’ Chris blushes, grabbing one from a pile of clean laundry on the sofa.

Darren takes it with thanks, wrapping it around his waist.

‘I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything. I figured after last night it wouldn’t be that weird- was I wrong?’

Chris can’t think of a reply- most of the blood normally circulating his brain seems to have relocated into his pants- so just silently hands Darren his mug of tea, mouth slightly open.

‘I’ll go get changed,’ Darren decides.

Both Chris’s mind and heartbeat are racing as Darren disappears, reappearing a few moments later fully dressed and carrying his bag. Walking towards the door, he gulps down the remains of his tea and turns to face Chris.

‘Well, I gotta go,’ he smiles. ‘But thanks for a great time- and for the shower and the tea.’

He leans into hug Chris, which Chris is eternally grateful for as he didn’t really know if he should hug Darren or what. It’s a strong hug, both boys’ arms wrapped tightly around each other for a few seconds before pulling apart. Chris can feel just how strong Darren is, his back broad yet still maintaining a delicate waist below, Darren’s damp curls tickling Chris’s neck slightly.

‘Bye,’ Chris says, feeling a little sad now that it was over.

‘Are you free tomorrow or something?’ Darren asks, trying to ignore the ticking of the clock. ‘I mean, if you’d like to meet up again.’

‘Of course! I’m pretty much free all day, when do you want hang out?’

‘I’ll text you in the morning,’ Darren promises. ‘Depends on when my shower finally gets fixed- I’m going to stink after tonight.’

‘You can always come back and shower here.’

‘Really? I don’t finish until like, 3am dude, are you sure about that?’

‘That’s fine,’ Chris shrugs. ‘I’m usually up that late anyway, watching trashy reality TV.’

Darren chuckles.

‘That’s a guilty pleasure of mine too. Well, if you’re sure it’s no trouble; I’ll come back and shower here tonight?’

‘Sounds good to me.’

‘You’re a lifesaver- oh shit,’ Darren says, looking at the time. ‘I really am late. Well, bye!’

‘Bye,’ Chris calls, closing the door after Darren. Now alone, he flops onto his sofa, relishing the day’s events. He had had his first date with a guy.  _And it had actually gone well._  And he thought there was chemistry there- he was more than attracted to Darren. And Darren seemed to be attracted to him? Admittedly, Chris was a little disappointed there was no kiss- okay, heavily disappointed- but Darren would be coming back tonight. And there was always a chance it would happen then…

 Chris is almost asleep when Darren knocks on his door at half three in the morning, mumbling a tired thanks to Chris who tells him it’s no worry, yawning slightly. Although glad to see Darren, Chris is gladder to be able to go to bed than anything else, switching off  _Real Housewives of Beverly Hills_  and locking the door as Darren goes to shower.

Darren doesn’t take long showering, walking into the kitchen in just a thong afterwards, rubbing a towel through his hair.

‘I’m done,’ he smiles, rubbing Chris’s shoulder as he walks up behind him. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘Same,’ Chris mumbles, surprised at how touchy-feely Darren is being. Darren’s arms have made their way round his waist, holding him close to his body. ‘Are you drunk?’ he asks casually, wondering why Darren had got so… _snugly_ , with him.

‘No?’ Darren yawns, snuggling his head into Chris’s shoulder. ‘Why?’

‘You’re just a lot…closer than you were this morning.’

‘Is it a problem?’

‘No, not at all.’

Chris is tired and his mind is only half awake, reality seeming weak and distant. Leaning back, he arches his neck so Darren can rub his head closer into it, welcoming the new affection.

‘I have a rule,’ Darren explains. ‘Not too much touchiness on the first date. I had to make sure you weren’t a psycho.’

‘Pft!’ Chris laughs. ‘I should be more worried about that!’

‘Rude,’ Darren giggles, squeezing Chris’s waist and being delighted upon finding Chris is ticklish. Chris squirms out of his reach, waving a finger at him.

‘Oh no mister- no tickles.’

‘Mister? Is that what you call me now?’

‘Yes. Yes it is. Now shut up and go to bed.’

‘So I am invited to sleep round? I was hoping so. Am I on the couch?’

‘Well I have a double bed,’ Chris offers, walking to the bedroom. ‘If you don’t mind sharing.’

Darren turns to face him, hugging Chris.

‘Of course not.  Thanks for the offer.’

Before Chris knows what’s happening, Darren leans in, kissing him on the lips. His mouth stays closed, and Chris follows suit, but it’s long and heavy, both boys taking in the feel of each other’s lips on their own. When they do break apart, Darren initiating the pause, they look at each other, both smiling.

‘Your lips are so fucking soft,’ Darren breathes, moving a hand slyly down to Chris’ butt, squeezing it slightly. Chris’s eyes widen at his touch, cock twitching slightly in his jeans.

‘Thanks,’ he whispers. Surprising himself, he leans in for the second one, this time longer, their moths opening and tongues finding each other, hot but gentle kisses shared between them. Darren pushes Chris’s body closer, encouraged by the increasingly hard dick he can feel in Chris’ pants, guiding him down to the bed. When they’re lying down, Chris on top of Darren, Darren stops to speak.

‘Well that was fucking amazing. Shit.’

Chris is about to reply until another yawn overcomes him, making him pause.

‘My point exactly,’ Darren pouts. ‘I am way too tired, man. Is it totally bad if we stop this to sleep?’

‘No,’ Chris smiles. ‘I’m exhausted and I have to pee.’

‘Give me one more.’

The third kiss is heavenly, Chris feels. A mixture of arousal and tiredness gives him a massive head rush, and he could swear he felt like he was  _floating_  as Darren’s lips met his again, the taste of him unforgettable. Darren tastes like red bull, Chris decides, realising Darren probably drinks a lot of this to get him through work. When they break away again, Darren flops back, rolling round to lie on his front.

‘Well, goodnight Chris,’ he mumbles, eyelids already fluttering close.

‘Night,’ Chris replies, leaving the room to visit the bathroom. When he comes back, Darren has fallen asleep, sprawled across his side of the bed, apparently too tired to pull the duvet over his body. He’s still in his thong, Chris observes, watching the now passed out man sleep. And Chris was certainly not complaining.

 ------

Darren leaves early the next morning, giving Chris several drawn out kisses in bed before saying goodbye. He tells Chris it’s his day off though, and that Chris should come round his for dinner.

‘This all seems a bit rushed,’ Chris had admitted, longing for more of Darren but also feeling overwhelmed at the pace of this budding new relationship.

‘I know,’ Darren had said, running a hand through his hair. ‘Do you want to postpone meeting up till tomorrow then?’

‘No, I’ve only got one week here- let’s make the most of it.’

 

At 9pm Chris arrives at Darren’s, heart fluttering as he reaches the door. Darren’s quick at opening it, kissing him before they say hi, Darren dragging Chris by this hand to the sofa.

‘I’m cooking you dinner,’ Darren announces. ‘Do you like pasta?’

‘Love it. It smells good already.’

‘Don’t say that till you try it,’ Darren laughs. ‘I mean, it  _should_  taste good, but you never know.’

Chris tries to help under the instruction of Darren, but it only seems to distract him. Whenever Darren gets close to Chris, he tries to kiss him, and whenever that starts Chris does everything he can to prevent it from ending.

‘Fuck,’ Darren moans, pulling himself away from Chris’s mouth for the fifth time. ‘Something’s burning- the sauce, the sauce!’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Chris shrugs. He pulls Darren up against his body. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘No, we spent too long on this,’ Darren pouts. ‘It’s done now, anyway.’

They eat on the sofa, flicking on the TV and finding a channel playing  _Mean Girls_.

‘Ohmygod,’ Chris says through bites. ‘I love this. We should have worn pink, it’s Wednesday.’

‘I am,’ Darren shrugs.

‘No you’re not.’

‘Pink boxers.’

Chris raises an eyebrow.

‘Don’t believe it.’

‘You will later.’

Darren winks at Chris before they both burst out laughing, Chris almost snorting as he struggles to swallow a mouthful of food. But Chris can’t help but feel a slight twinge in his stomach when he thinks about what Darren has said, the idea of seeing Darren’s underwear- and what is underneath it- unignorably appealing to him.

‘Ohmygod!’ Darren exclaims suddenly. ‘I never even offered you a drink! Do you want some wine or something?’

‘Sure,’ Chris nods, not really knowing how much he even likes wine.

‘Actually, do you want to go out later? There’s this club near here- not a strip one- which is nice? Or we could stay here, I don’t mind.’

‘Could we go to the club? I might as well- there’s nothing gay friendly in Clovis.’

‘Okay. It’s probably best if we stick to spirits then, if we’re going to be drinking later.’ Darren takes a look in a cupboard, rummaging around. Do you want vodka? Or I think I have some tequila somewhere…’

‘What’s tequila taste like?’

‘Dude, you’ve never tried it?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well you can try some now.’

Darren returns with some chopped up lime slices, a bottle of tequila, shot glasses and salt. Chris looks at it questionably.

‘So people actual do the whole salt and lime thing?’

‘Yeah! I mean, people even do the body shots thing, it’s actually really fun.’

Darren says it with no hint of suggestion, making a move to pour some shots, but Chris stops him.

‘How fun?’

‘What?’

‘Body shots. How fun are they?’

‘Do you want to find out?’

And, as if pushedby some invisible hand or maybe he’s just under the influence of desire and attraction, Chris says yes.

When Darren’s lying on his back, shirt off, lime slice in his mouth, trail of salt covering a path from his belly button to his jeans, and belly button filled up with tequila, Chris is beginning to get slightly nervous. Deciding it’s best to start the drinking before his nerves get any bigger, he dives in.

Licking the salt first, Darren pretends not to notice the slight hardening in his own pants, the feel of Chris’s tongue so close to his dick a thought he can’t ignore but instead clings onto, saving for a time when Chris is gone. He tries to ignore the way he feels lightheaded when Chris presses his lips to Darren’s belly button, sucking at the tequila there, even giving a quick lick. But when Chris’s lips meet his own, grabbing the slice of lime, Darren can’t ignore things anymore, sitting up to remove the lime from Chris’s mouth and beginning to kiss him. It’s rushed and passionate, taking a while before they find and settle on a rhythm, Chris moving to sit on Darren’s lap, straddling him. There’s hands going up Chris’s shirt, slipping it off, Chris reluctant at first but then thinking  _oh what the hell_  as he feels Darren’s skin against his own, each touch transferring into a tingle down is spine and into his pants, where his own dick was now pressed against Darren’s. A slow grinding motion develops between them, and Chris wonders if it’s all too much too fast, pulling away from Darren.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Chris breathes, flustered. ‘Just never done this before. Is that okay?’

‘Of course it’s okay,’ Darren smiles, reaching in for another kiss. ‘Maybe another drink?’

‘Yeah,’ Chris giggles, taking a shot glass which Darren pours out for him. He knocks it back, realising as the taste hits him why people use lime and salt, Darren hurriedly handing him a piece of lime after the look on Chris’s face.

‘Ew,’ Chris grimaces. ‘Maybe stick with vodka?’

‘Good idea,’ Darren laughs, bringing a bottle of vodka. ‘This is your last one though; I sense you’re not a very seasoned drinker.’

Chris rolls his eyes.

‘It’s not my fault. I was never invited to all the cool parties.’

‘Better than me,’ Darren jokes. ‘I started drinking way too young. Was only 14 when I first got drunk.’

‘I first got drunk four days ago. Look at me now.’

‘A train wreck.’

‘Yup. Helped by you of course.’

‘Hey,’ Darren says, suddenly serious. ‘I don’t want to actually be pushing you into this or anything. We don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.’

‘Trust me, I want to,’ Chris says, watching Darren chase down three shots of vodka. ‘You’re not pushing me into anything at all.’

‘Okay,’ Darren says, relaxed now. ‘Also…tell me if I go too far with the sexual stuff, you know?’

‘Okay,’ Chris blushes. ‘I-I’m just not used to it.’

‘That’s okay. And you don’t have to do anything with me today, or ever.’

‘What if I want to?’ Chris says slyly, noting the warmth of vodka begin to settle into his head. He kisses Darren and makes a move to straddle him again.

‘Well then I would say,’ Darren replies, trying to squirm away from Chris, ‘to wait a bit.’

‘Wait?’

‘At least until tonight,’ Darren laughs, Chris’s’ expression of alarm hilarious. ‘Come on, we’re meant to be having a nice dinner, I’ve got  **dessert** in the oven and everything.’

 **‘** **Dessert**?’

‘I tried to make brownies,’ Darren explains. ‘Think they may have had too long in there though.’

 

Admittedly, the brownies are rather crunchy, but a few scoops of ice cream definitely makes them edible, the boys decide. Darren discovers some chocolate baileys which Chris soon announces to be the best thing he’s ever tasted, insisting on pouring a glass and dipping his second brownie in it.

‘That’s actually such a fucking good idea,’ Darren says, watching him. ‘We’re gonna get wasted, fuck it, it tastes so good.’

‘So damn good! I could like, cover my body in the stuff!’

Darren laughs, removing the bottle from Chris’s reach after hearing how drunk he sounds.

‘Okay, maybe slow down,’ Darren laughs. **‘** **This has gone from dinner to pre-drinks** **’**

‘When are we going out? I need to pee.’

Chris walks to the bathroom without saying another word; leaving Darren to make him some hurried toast, buttering it when Chris comes back.

‘Oh, toast!’ Chris giggles, taking a slice. ‘To us!’ **He**  insists on holding the bread out like a glass until Darren bumps it with his own slice of toast.

‘To us,’ Darren says, eyebrow raised. ‘Now eat! I’ll go ring a taxi, it’s almost 11.’

Darren ends up showering before they go out, still slightly sticky from the tequila and salt. Chris, still topless, asks if Darren has anything ‘Vegasy’ he could wear.

‘I dunno, take a look in my wardrobe,’ Darren says, closing the bathroom door.

Hunting for a cool shirt to wear, Chris does. He flicks through the clothes, finding a black shirt with a white collar he likes, but then reaches something much more interesting. The end section of Darren’s wardrobe doesn’t consist of ‘average’ clothes. Instead, Chris finds a policeman’s outfit, a gold mankini, a caveman outfit, and finally, a tux- a rip off one, judging by its tell-tale Velcro fabric. Blushing, Chris puts on the shirt and closes the wardrobe door, pretending he didn’t see any of it.

When the cab comes, Chris has almost forgotten he saw the costumes, downing one more shot with Darren before heading to the club.

 

Chris’s ID gets questioned slightly when they enter the club, Chris trying not to get offended at the raised eyebrow he’s met with **,** but once in he feels happy again, rushed with that sense of freedom he’s beginning to associate with gay bars and clubs,  **he**  and Darren instantly hitting the dance floor.

They dance together, facing each other, and two songs go past before Chris realises they’re dancing like a couple. He wonders if that’s what they are now, but the music is too loud for him to ask Darren that, so instead continues with the dancing, trying to pick up some better moves than his own by watching other people, mostly Darren.

Darren’s amazing, Chris decides. The way he seems to know exactly how to dance to the music, never once looking like an idiot or like he’s trying too hard. He grabs Chris’s hand too, and they dance together, Chris beginning **to**  forget to feel awkward or foolish when Darren squeezes his hand, the pounding of the music seeming to pulse in his brain.

After an hour- or maybe it’s two, or even three, Chris has lost all sense of time- Darren shouts if he wants a drink, to which Chris nods his head, beginning to sober up. He orders a fancy looking cocktail from the bar, unsure of what’s in it, Darren ordering a simpler Disaronno and coke. The cocktail is stronger than Chris bargained for and he squints when he takes his first sip, a mixture of coconut, lime and alcohol hitting his mouth. But as he drinks more he learns to like it, trying some of Darren’s when he’s done, having never tasted Disaronno before.

‘Do you like it?’ Darren asks.

‘Yeah. I might get my own.’

‘I’ll buy it for you,’ Darren shrugs, leaving Chris at the table before returning with two drinks, one for them each.

Chris is feeling dizzy when they finish and get up, trying not to be shocked at how  **drunk**  he feels as he’s walking. They dance more on the dance floor, the music playing old 90’s classics, Chris’s eyes widening at the beats of Britney Spears, for once knowing the music. Once, another guy tries to  **hit** on Chris, moving his body in-between him  **and** Darren, trying to grind up against Chris. Darren pushes him away angrily, flipping him off before pulling Chris to another section of the  **dance floor** **.**

‘Pervert,’ Chris days, trying to get closer to Darren. ‘I only want you.’

Chris proves his point then, changing direction to face away from Darren and grinding up against him, ass stroking over where Darren’s dick is. Surprised but not disappointed, Darren goes along with it, hands encouraging Chris’s movements and pressed against his hips, Darren grinding up against Chris. They do it for at least two songs, Chris perfectly aware of the hardened bulge at the front of Darren’s jeans, enjoying teasing him as he moves slowly against it. As the second song ends, Chris turns around.

‘Let me touch you,’ he breathes, Darren only just catching onto what he’s saying.

‘Not here.’

‘Toilets then.’

Darren is half obliged to take him there, but if this is going to happen- and  **he's**  not sure that it is, in the  **drunk** state Chris is in- he wants it to be somewhere classier.

‘Not the toilets. If you want to go- go somewhere private, I’ll take you to my place.’

‘Okay.’

 

In the cab, Chris’s head is nodding against Darren’s shoulder, the boy clearly too drunk for sitting up straight. Darren decides right there and then that nothing is going to happen between them, and that the moment they get in he’s putting Chris in bed with a large glass of water.

‘Please,’ Chris whispers, rubbing is hand over the front of Darren’s jeans. ‘I want to.’

Darren moves his hand away firmly.

‘No.’

Chris pouts, making an effort, but failing, to try and sit up without rocking side to side. Darren’s almost relieved he hasn’t thrown up as the cab finally stops, Darren paying the driver before guiding Chris to his flat.

‘Okay,’ he says, holding up a very wobbly Chris. ‘You are going to bed.’

‘I know,’ Chris smiles. ‘Off we go!’

He sounds so innocent, so childish, that Darren has a hard time keeping a straight face.

‘Yes,’ he encourages. ‘Into bed you go! I’m getting you a drink.’

Seeing Chris get into bed he hopes that he’ll return to find him already asleep. But he’s not, and Darren has to hold the glass of water up for Chris to take sips from, the younger boy apparently  **having** forgotten how to use his hands.

‘This isn’t vodka,’ Chris protests at one point, shaking his head.

‘It is,' Darren lies.  **'** Just water tasting vodka. We have it here in Vegas all the time.’

Chris frowns before deciding that Darren is older and therefore must be right, downing the rest in one.

‘Now you get in!’ he says, pointing to the space beside him.

‘To sleep, yes.’

‘Noooo.’

‘Chris please, you’re so fucking drunk right now.’

‘I knoooow!’ Chris replies. ‘Isn’t it fun! And now, time for fun stuff!’

‘Maybe in the morning,’ Darren sighs, kissing Chris on the forehead. ‘But not unless you go to sleep now. ‘

‘Fun sponge,’ Chris sighs, shaking his head. ‘Old and boring!’

‘Exactly. I’m old and boring which is why you must sleep. Come on, I’m switching off the light.’

Darren only has to fight off an investigative hand from Chris once before Chris falls asleep, apparently so drunk it only takes him a few seconds. Making a mental note to find some paracetamol for Chris before he wakes up, Darren puts his head down on the pillow too, feeling bad already for how Chris is going to feel in the morning.

 

 ‘Darren. Darren.’

That’s what wakes Darren up early the next morning, Chris gently poking him.

‘Hmmm,’

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

Darren bolts up immediately, helping a staggering Chris to the bathroom. Chris sits down in front of the toilet, grabbing his stomach.

‘I’ll grab you some water,’ Darren says, returning  **with**  three filled up glasses.

Chris never is sick, but resorts to slumping against the wall, looking extremely ill. Darren suggests he goes back to bed and take some paracetamol,  **to which Chris gladly agrees** **.**

‘Do you want to wear something comfier?’ Darren asks, watching Chris sway slightly as he gets in the bed and realising he must still be drunk. It makes sense; Chris’s last drink would have been less than five hours ago.

‘I can’t,’ Chris moans. ‘Can. Not. Move.’

‘I’ll help you,’ Darren says, knowing Chris’s jeans can’t be comfortable after having worn them all night.  **He** finds Chris some sweatpants, offering  **them to him** **.**

‘Here,’

‘If I move, I’m gonna be sick.’

‘Do you want me to put them on for you?’

Chris shrugs, clutching his pillow.

‘Still drunk,’ he moans. ‘Drunk and ill.’

‘I feel bad. I should have taken better care of you.’

‘Not your fault. All mine.’

‘Well I’m keeping you here  **till** you feel better.’

‘Good.’

Darren can’t think of a reply to that, and starts to help Chris get changed. Chris manages to unbutton his jeans but gets stuck with pulling them down, arm muscles apparently useless. Darren goes into help, pulling them off Chris’s legs and then working on getting the tracksuit bottoms on. He pretends not to notice what’s going on inside Chris’s underwear, the already big bulge slowly growing as Daren tries furiously to seem oblivious. But his eyes keep flicking back to where Chris is getting hard, and he feels a familiar stirring in his own stomach, heart beginning to beat faster, arousal growing in his body. He’s just got the pants past Chris’s knees when Chris speaks.

‘That’s just turning me on.’ Giving a little giggle, Chris closes his eyes, head rolling into the pillow. Darren decides that yes, maybe stopping would be for the best – even if he wished nothing more than for Chris to be sober and for himself to never stop. Pulling the duvet over Chris’s body and placing a cautionary towel on the floor next to him in case he _does_ puke, Darren leaves the room, going to the couch to watch TV until Chris wakes up.

 

‘Morning,’ Chris sighs, walking into the lounge at 8pm that night. He’s spent the whole day in bed, Darren glad he’s not working that night otherwise he was going to have to wake Chris up.

‘Evening. Feeling better?’

‘Yeah, a bit.’

‘Want anything to eat?’

‘Maybe just bread or something.’

Darren  **puts** on some toast whilst Chris sits down at the table, rummaging a hand through his hair.

‘When did I get these?’ he says, pointing to the tracksuit bottoms he’s wearing.

‘Do you not remember? This morning you woke up feeling really ill, and I gave you those to put on.’

Chris frowns, trying to remember. Suddenly, he does.

‘Oh crap,’ he blushes remembering more than he wishes  **he** could. He remembers Darren’s hand brushing against his inner thigh as he helped him get dressed, how he had got hard over it, and stupidly, blurted it out.

‘It’s okay, Darren chuckles. ‘I’ll take it as a compliment.’

‘That’s just embarrassing.’

‘Well, if it makes you feel better, I felt the same way.’

‘Really?’

Darren walks over to Chris, kissing him before rubbing a hand down to Chris’s crotch, lightly squeezing at his thigh.

'Yes.’

Chris hasn’t brushed his teeth and tastes like bad booze and buttery toast but Darren doesn’t care. Encouraged by the way Chris’s hand makes its way into his curly, unkempt hair, he straddles Chris’ lap, grinding down into him and hearing with a flutter in his stomach Chris moan under him. He can feel Chris get hard against his hand, Chris’s own hand grabbing Darren’s and pressing it against himself, kissing Darren hungrily as he tries to desperately  **gain** some friction. Darren’s hard **too** **;** cock begging to be touched by Chris’s hand, but Darren doesn’t want to do that just yet. In fact, now he’s thinking about it, he’s not sure he should be doing  _this_  just yet.

‘Stop,’ Darren whispers, pulling away.

‘What’s wrong- did I do something?’

‘No, no. It’s just- you are completely sober now, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay…I dunno, I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.’

‘Trust me,’ Chris says, moving Darren’s hand over his dick. ‘You’re not. It’s pretty clear I want this too.’

Chris is talking  **too** fast and too loud. He’s on edge, heart racing as he takes in what’s happening. He’s never done this with a guy before but he wants it so  **badly** \- with Darren. He wants it with Darren.

‘Okay,’ Darren says, thinking about it. ‘At least- at least let me take you out to dinner first. Like a proper, sober date, where we can come home without being completely pissed.’

‘Darren, I’m really not hungry.’

‘Please. Otherwise I just feel like this is just sex.’

‘We haven’t actually had sex,’ Chris points out. ‘And I wasn’t exactly…well, I was thinking more of just hands.’

‘I know, it’s just- I want this to be about feelings. I really like you, Chris.’

‘Same,’ Chris smiles.

‘Let me take you out to dinner later. And then, we can take things from there.’

‘Okay,’ Chris smiles, receiving another kiss from Darren. They walk over to the couch, cuddling up against each other, commenting on what a strange time it is to be just waking up. Trashy reality TV takes over until Chris feels well enough to eat a proper meal- midnight, exactly. Its then that Darren realises no nice restaurant is going to be open at this time, only 24 hour fast food places.

‘I don’t mind, Chris shrugs. ‘They might be quicker too.’

Darren coys his head, smirking.

‘Are you insinuating you want this to go as fast as possible, Chris? That you want to hurry our lovely, romantic date at McDonalds?’

‘No,’ Chris answers sarcastically. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

 

As it turns out, it doesn’t take that long to eat burgers and fries at McDonalds anyway, and after ten minutes a group of rowdy middle aged men wander in, prompting Chris and Darren to leave as soon as they’re done.

‘Are we going back to yours?’ Chris asks, holding Darren’s hand as they make a walk back, Darren’s flat being only a few minutes away.

‘Yeah,’ Darren says, wrapping an arm around Chris to pull him in closer. ‘Did you like our date?’

‘I loved it. So classy, glamorous, pretty much everything I came to Las Vegas for.’

‘Plus the men. You came here for the hot gay men right?’

‘Absolutely. And I even found one.’

 ‘So did I.’

Chris silently disagrees with that, but there’s no time to disagree before they enter the apartment  **complex** , Chris beginning to get both excited and nervous about what’s to come. Darren’s sped up his walking too, apparently just as eager as Chris. Once they’re in the flat, Darren turns to him.

‘You’re sure you want to do this?’

‘Positive.’

 

In the bedroom, the lights are too bright, too harsh. Darren turns them off in exchange for pulling back the curtains, the city lights illuminating both boys flatteringly. Darren takes off his shirt first, before encouraging Chris to do the same, both boys’ eyes flickering down each other’s chests, admiring what they see.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ Darren whispers, hugging Chris whilst tugging at his tracksuit bottoms, slipping them down below Chris’s butt. Chris moans out loud as Darren places a hand over Chris’s butt before pressing a firm palm there, clenching at the flesh.

They start kissing then, hot and rushed, Darren trying to take his jeans off whilst kissing but having to give up, pressing a large hickey into Chris’s neck as he pulls the denim  **off** his legs. And then finally, they’re stood facing each other dressed in only their boxers, both of them sporting visible erections, dicks pushing out against the fabric.

Darren gets up onto the bed and Chris follows suit.

‘Sit against the head post,’ Darren whispers, kissing the white skin of Chris’s shoulders. ‘I’m gonna make you feel so good,’

Chris doesn’t doubt that, palming himself and sighing at the relief of finally touching himself. Darren rummages in a  **drawer** before producing some lube, putting the bottle on the bed.

Darren cups Chris’s face in his hands before rubbing his nose against Chris’s slowly, pausing to take in the moment. He wants to make this about Chris. He’s rock hard and begging to be touched  **by** him, but he’s going to make this about Chris.

‘Can I see?’ Chris asks, slipping a tentative finger into the waistband f Darren’s boxers, voice too heavy, too nervous. Darren obliges, slipping his boxers off in one smooth movement, cock bobbing in the air before he warps a fist round it, watching Chris’s reaction. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so turned on, not even after working as a stripper in Las Vegas for a year and a. He makes a move  **to** take Chris’s underwear off, Chris lifting his hips up as Darren tugs the grey boxer briefs down his legs, staring at the long, firm cock underneath them. He automatically touches it, hand making a fist around Chris which results in Chris swearing as he closes his eyes. Darren can feel Chris’s dick twitch in his hand, begging for more. Quickly, he squirts out some lube into his open palm before returning  to Chris’s cock,  **pumping** up and down slowly, taking care to stop and squeeze at the base of Chris’s cock every few seconds in an effort to help him last longer.

‘Kiss me,’ is all Chris can say and Darren does so, leaning forward to let their lips meet, tongues embracing in a sloppy kiss as Darren jerks Chris off faster. He can feel Chris’s heartbeat against his own chest, can feel how rushed it is as Chris comes closer and closer to coming. Giving Chris’s dick a few more quick pumps, Chris does so, spurts of cum covering Darren’s hand as he carries on working Chris through his orgasm, Chris flopping his head against Darren’s shoulder until it’s over and he’s too sensitive.

Darren withdraws his hand, wiping off the excess cum onto his bedsheets before  **starting to jerk**  himself off slowly. He’s already close to coming, the feel and image of Chris coming better than any porn he’s ever watched.  After a few seconds, Chris lifts his head up, staring Darren in the eye.

Fuck,’ he breathes, slowly smiling. ‘Fuck.’

‘I know,’

‘Sorry for coming so quickly. I just- wow.’

‘It’s okay, I’m pretty close myself.’

Chris looks down to where Darren’s jerking himself off.

‘Can I?’

Darren nods, shuffling closer to Chris, and getting his hand, guiding it up and down his cock fast. Chris thinks it’s more similar to jerking himself off than he imagined, even if the feel is different, and the angle is wrong.

‘You’re so big,’ he says in awe.

Darren grunts in thanks, face squinting as Chris moves his hand faster. Darren rocks his hips up against the movements of Chris’s hand, encouraging the fast pace. He comes soon after that, surprised at coming so soon but also welcoming the orgasm, messing over Chris’s own fist and his bedsheets. Moaning, he lens into kiss Chris again, withdrawing when he’s too sensitive.

‘Shit dude,’ is all Darren can say, apparently illiterate due to being so overwhelmed. ‘Fuck.’

‘That is officially the best feeling ever,’ Chris says, still stealing not so subtle glances at Darren’s cock.

‘Yeah…do you want to shower?’

‘Not really- do you have tissues?’

Darren hands him a box of them, before using one to clear up the mess on the bed and wipe his own hand.

‘I could just go to sleep,’ Darren admits, always tired after coming. And something about doing this with Chris has made everything seem more extreme, more beautiful, but more tiring.

‘Same.’

They fall asleep together, Chris being Darren’s little spoon as the rush of traffic dies down outside and the moon shines a beam of light through Darren’s open window. It lands exactly where their heads are, Darren’s nose pressed against Chris’s neck and seems to watch them sleep, the heavy breathing of both boys whispering of nothing but safety, comfort and love.

 

Chris wakes up first the next morning, blinking as the sun streams into the room. He remembers with a smile the night before, how lovely it had all been, how it was so much more than just a handjob. He gets slightly hard from thinking about it, but Darren’s still fast asleep, one arm wrapped protectively over Chris’s torso. Feeling slightly sticky from the night before, Chris slips out of Darren’s arm and decides to have a shower, changing back into his clothes after.

Darren’s up when he comes out, making an attempt at pancakes in the kitchen. Admittedly, there’s a slight smell of burning, but Chris doesn’t care. He feels as if nothing could dampen his mood this morning.

‘Hey,’ Darren calls out, as Chris enters the room. ‘You like pancakes, right? The ingredients are a little off- I’ve run out of the exact milk required- but it’s experimental, you know?’

Chris laughs and sits down, receiving a plate from Darren. He’s given the first one, an eager Darren asking how it is.

In truth, it’s a little dry and chewy, but Chris doesn’t really mind.

‘It’s good,’ he lies. ‘The best I’ve had.’

Darren frowns, taking a mouthful for himself.

‘Liar,’ he laughs, coughing slightly. ‘Jeez, that’s bad. I’ll add some water or something.’

In the end they settle for a breakfast of toast and Nutella, the useless batter now lying in the bin, frying pan in the sink. The smell of burning still lingers in the room though, and Chris half wishes they could go back in the bedroom- if only to escape the smell.

‘So, I have work tonight,’ Darren says. ‘And need to hit the gym sometime this afternoon.’

‘Okay. I need to get back and book my flight to LA. Don’t want to be stuck in this place forever,’ Chris laughs, remembering the skimpy outfits in Darren’s wardrobe and imagining himself stuck in Las Vegas as a stripper.

‘It’s not that bad,’ Darren quickly retorts, looking slightly offended. ‘You get used to it.’

‘Yeah but I want to be an actor. Not a stripper. Can you pass another slice of bread?’

Darren hands it to him albeit a little forcefully.

‘You okay?’ Chris asks.

‘Yeah. Are you okay with, you know, being in a  **stripper's**  house?’

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Oh god, did I offend you? Chris asks. ‘I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘You sort of did,’ Darren shrugs.

‘I just mean, being in Las Vegas isn’t part of my long term plan,’ Chris hastens. ‘You know, I want to get a proper job.’

‘Believe me, I know.’

Darren stands up, walking over to the sink to start the washing up.

‘Come on Darren, you know I don’t think you’re a failure,’ Chris pleads, trying to hug him from behind. But Darren squirms away, shrugging Chris off.

‘A failure? Well, thanks for mentioning it.’

‘I just thought that you thought that!’

‘No, Chris, I didn’t! But you clearly do.’

‘Darren, please-‘

‘No. You called me a failure, and to be honest, you’ve probably been thinking it all this time.’

‘No-‘

‘Yes. And seeing as you can’t wait to leave Las Vegas so much, why don’t you start by getting out  **of** my house.’

‘Darren, please-

‘Just leave.’

Chris glares at him. He never meant to upset Darren, he just seemed to have said everything wrong. But if Daren wasn’t being so touchy, then things would be different.

‘You know what, fine.’

Chris grabs his keys and wallet and storms towards the door, opening it.

‘No, Chris- come back-‘

But it’s too late.

Darren’s left standing in the kitchen, hands wet from the washing up water, only the smell of burning pancakes a reminder that Chris was ever there.

 

Chris’s mind is racing  **as** he gets back to his hotel. He’s half annoyed with himself, for saying all the wrong things, and half pissed off at Darren, for being so sensitive. He hadn’t meant to upset him- but now looking back, he can see how he did. But he had said sorry, and Darren hadn’t cared for it. Back at his hotel, he tries to distract himself by flicking through Facebook and looking up possible flights. He books one, but by the time he’s got a confirmation email he’s feeling sad and regretful. He doesn’t want to go, not so soon. But now Darren’s mad at him, maybe it’s for the best.

‘ **I’m sorry’** texts Chris. There’s no reply though. After a few minutes Chris decides he’s had enough of waiting, and resorts to going to the  **hotel** restaurant ordering a proper lunch. But somehow, even with edible food and a nicer atmosphere, it doesn’t beat having pancakes with Darren.

After a few hours of waiting for his phone to buzz, Chris gives up on ever getting a reply. He decides to go back to doing what he did before he discovered Darren- watching the shows, trying new foods and immersing himself in the city. He decides he doesn’t really need Darren after all.

 ----

Darren ignores him for two days, the absence of a reply still lingering in the back of Chris’s mind. He’s annoyed with himself for caring so much, and doesn’t know why he does. He had only spent three days with Darren, how could he be so… _attached_ to him? But he knows why. He had liked Darren, a lot. And now he was stripped back to the life he had before coming here. Unaccepted, lonely, and isolated. He hated it.

He finds a flyer in the hotel lobby advertising the performance of a band in a bar. He recognises the name of the bar, a quieter one he’s passed before, only a few minutes’ walk away from the hotel. Deciding he might as well check it out as he has nothing else to do after all, he sets off for it, hoping for a distraction.

The bar’s more crowded than Chris remembers, it seems the band- ‘Freelance Whales’, a banner tells him- is quite popular. Ordering a cider, Chris sits up at the bar, watching them go through their first few songs. They’re better than he expected, and he finds himself actually enjoying the evening, almost forgetting he ever had feelings for Darren. The band **plays** well into the night, Chris ordering a cheese burger and a diet coke whilst he loses himself in the music, savouring the sounds that numb him from reality.

‘Alright guys, that’s us done,’ one of the band members says at the end of the evening, to much cheers and applause. ‘Thank you, thank you. We’ll be selling CDs over here if anyone’s interested.’

Chris knows he wants one straight away, checking how much money he has in his wallet before walking over and joining the end of the queue. It’s quite long and he’s at the end, but he doesn’t mind waiting. The music was good and he wouldn’t mind listening to it again. Besides, he has nothing to go home to.

Finally, it’s his turn to buy one.

‘Hey, ‘Chris says. ‘How much is it to buy one?’

‘Eight dollars,’ one of the guys tells him. ‘Do you want a signed one?’

‘Yes please.’

‘There you are. That’s me, Chuck Criss,’ Chuck says pointing to his signature.

‘Criss?’ Chris says absent mindedly.

‘Yeah.’ Chuck nods. ‘Maybe you’ll be hearing that name on the radio one day.  Well, if my brother hasn’t beaten  **me** first.’ He laughs at that, as if it’s an inside joke. But Chris can only concentrate on the mention of a brother.

‘You have a brother?’ he asks, trying to sound casual.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Chuck nods, seeming happy to carry on talking to Chris as there’s no one else in the queue. ‘He’s a stripper round here, you might have met him,’ he says it as a joke, not seriously thinking that Chris has met him. ‘You’d actually be his type,’ Chuck adds, looking Chris up and down. ‘Are you- are you gay? I mean, I don’t mean to assume or anything.’

‘No, I am,’ Chris smiles, feeling somewhat awkward.

‘Well, if you’re interested, he strips in the gay club just a five minute drive up the road. ‘Chuck says, winking at Chris.

‘I don’t think I’m his type,’ Chris smiles.

‘Nah, you are. He’s real stressed and upset about some boy at the moment though, you might want to leave it a few days.’

‘He’s upset?’

‘Yeah, some argument and some career worries I don’t know how serious things were though, they had only met for a few days- you’d still have a chance. Are you from here? He seems to be stuck stripping here forever’

‘No,’ Chris says, thinking about what Chuck has just said. Darren was really upset? Chris had thought he was ignoring him because he wasn’t interested, maybe found someone better, he had never believed that Darren would be upset. And the career thing…well maybe Chris should have never brought up the fact Darren’s a stripper. He imagines what it must be like, left to strip instead of acting or singing. Suddenly Chris feels a pang of sympathy for Darren.

‘Seriously, do you want his number? He said he’d meet me after this but he has work, but it doesn’t look like he’s coming…’ Before Chuck can finish however, he sees someone enter the door, his face lighting up.

‘Hey, Darren!’ he calls. ‘How are you, dude?’

‘Hey,’ Darren says quietly, having not caught sight of Chris yet.

‘Still miserable?’

Darren shrugs, hugging his brother.

‘Hey, if you’re single and interested, there’s a guy here that-‘

‘I have to go. I’m sorry,’ Chris blurts out, almost running out the door. Darren had seen him, and somehow, Chris just couldn’t do it. A mixture of nerves, anxiety, and the plain confusion of how he felt and what he wanted with Darren, had caused him to panic. Entering the busy street outside, he didn’t glance back, getting into the first taxi he could in an effort to get back to his hotel as soon as possible. He doesn’t allow himself to think when he gets back, singing in an effort to distract himself as he showers, slipping into bed with his ipod turned on, trying to forget everything. But somehow, just before he slips into the clutches of sleep,  **he's** thinking about him. Of Darren. The way he smiles, the way his hair bounces up in curls when Chris touches it, the way his body feels so good, so  _right_  against his own. No matter how hard he tries not to, the person Chris thinks about when falling asleep, is Darren.

 

 

 

At 7pm the next day, Chris hears the doorbell ring. He’s been searching for acting jobs and emailing his agent all day, and has half forgotten about seeing Darren last night. Getting up,  **he assumes the doorbell is probably one of the hotel staff, with mail from home or something.** Opening it, he’s greeted with a shock.

‘Hey,’ comes a familiar voice. It’s Darren. He looks nervous for once, running a hand through his hair and stuttering slightly. ‘I, er. I’ve come to say sorry.’

‘You’ve been ignoring me for four days,’ Chris says. Truthfully, he’s happy to see Darren. But he want’s answers.

‘I know, and I’m sorry. What you said- it just hit a little close to home. It’s not your fault, it’s mine, and I realise that  **now.**

Okay,’ Chris says after a pause.

‘Forgiven?’

‘Forgiven. What made you realise it?’

‘When I saw you last night. I’ve never…I’ve never felt like this before. Like you really mean something to me. Oh god, am I being crazy? Do you feel that or what?’

‘I feel the same.’

Suddenly Chris leaps forward, hugging Darren tight and planting a deep kiss onto his lips.

‘Woah,’ Darren mumbles, kissing back before pulling away. ‘Don’t make me drop these pizzas.’

‘Yeah,’ what is up with the pizzas?’ Chris questions, looking at the boxes in Darren’s hands.

‘I figured flowers were too cliché and chocolates too predictable. Pizza is way better.’

‘Indeed,’ Chris smiles, stealing another kiss from Darren

‘They’re gonna get cold,’ Darren warns, pulling away. ‘Let’s eat them first.’

 

They eat on Chris’s couch, Chris opening a bottle of wine and sharing it between them. They don’t need the TV and they don’t need to talk, finding comfort in just watching each other again. Chris may be in a strange city and hundreds of miles from home but somehow, sat next to Darren he feels at home. They don’t realise how much they’re drinking until the bottle’s empty, Chris’s wine glass begging to be filled up again.

‘Fuck, when did we drink all this?’ Darren laughs, picking up the bottle.

‘Well we have been sat here for two hours,’ Chris shrugs.

Darren looks at the clock and Chris is right. It doesn’t feel like two hours though, more like ten minutes.

‘Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess. Wanna have more fun?’

‘Huh?’

‘Come on, there’s so much to see. Have you checked out the mock Venice thing? We could go on one of those little boats, it’s meant to be romantic.’

‘I don’t really do romance,’ Chris admits. It’s not that he doesn’t like it; he just doesn’t know how to do it.

‘You do tonight,’ Darren grins. ‘But first…’

He swings his leg over Chris’s lap to straddle him, letting their noses rub together slightly as they begin to kiss, starting slow then speeding up under Darren’s guidance. Chris feels more confident with this now, knows he’s improved. He guesses he’s learnt from the best, feeling himself grow hard as his dick aches to be touched by Darren, Darren noticeably hard on top of him.  Chris is just about to slip a hand down Darren’s pants before Darren falls sideways, giggling as he crashes down on the sofa.

‘Ohmygod,’ he splutters, Chris catching his laughter and giggling too. ‘I’m so fucking drunk.’

Chris stands up to help him and is slightly shocked at the way the room moves in front of him. Those three glasses of wine may have been two too many.

‘I think I’m drunk too,’ he frowns, trying to take a steady step forward and wobbling dramatically. ‘Yep, drunk.’

‘This is so bad,’ Darren pouts. ‘We were meant to go out sober.’

‘But it’s Las Vegas! We’re meant to be drunk, ‘Chris shouts, pointing a finger at Darren.

‘True,’ Darren thinks. ‘Okay then. Though-‘he looks down at his crotch, rubbing himself slightly. ‘I think I’m too drunk to cum.’

Chris silently agrees, slightly devastated at the thought of no handjobs before they go out. But he’s soon excited again, grabbing his keys before heading out the door with Darren.

Darren takes him to the Venetian hotel, still struck by the idea of taking Chris on a gondola ride. Chris doesn’t really know what he’s on about but thinks the idea sounds nice, trusting Darren’s word. Somehow they find themselves stopping at a bar on the way, both boys agreeing that a couple of jaeger bombs each would be a great idea. But Chris can’t help but wonder if it’s the intoxication of the alcohol or Darren which makes him so happy.

‘You know,’ Chris says, striding into the Venetian hotel hand in hand with Darren. ‘I really, really like you, D.’

‘D?’

‘That is your name. For when I’m too drunk to say Darren.’

‘Okay,’ Darren shrugs, chest feeling warm at the thought of Chris having a special name for him. ‘Some people call me Daisy though.’

‘Daisy?

‘Yeah. Cause I’m so fucking gay.’

‘Gay with me.’

‘Yes.’

‘Daisy D is gay for me.’

‘Hey,’ Darren smiles, kissing Chris. ‘That’s exactly right. Now let me take you on a boat ride.’

They’re allowed on one of the boats somehow, both boys trying hard to appear as sober as possible. Darren keeps rambling about how he’s always wanted to go to Italy, how he’s been trying to teach himself Italian. Chris isn’t sure how much of this  **is** true until Daren says ‘Cara mia, ti voglio bene’ which sounds believable, even if Chris doesn’t know what it means. And then suddenly they’re boating around the indoor river, Chris taking in the lavish decorations of a mock Venetian river.  It’s all over the top, the boat  **too** gold, the river too blue, but somehow, nestled into Darren’s arm, it feels right.

‘I love being with you,’ Chris mumbles, closing his eyes as Darren kisses his hair. Darren slips his hand into Chris’s, clutching it.

‘I was thinking exactly the same.’

They don’t talk for the rest of the ride. They don’t need to. They may be drunk, stupidly so, but their feelings are genuine. Everything feels right, like this, nestled together and floating down the river, all worries left behind with their first drink. Chris feels like, for once, he knows who he is when he’s with Darren. He’s Chris  **Colfer** , and he’s slipping in love.

The ride ends all too soon, all too fast. They’re standing up again and almost toppling over, Chris handing a hefty tip to the man who paddled for them. It was probably too much money, something he’ll regret later, but right now, he couldn’t care. He’s drunk, and everything seems temporary.

‘So where now,’ Chris wonders, clutching onto Darren as they attempt to walk  **in** a straight line.

‘I dunno. What about a walk.’

‘I cannot walk, D,’ Chris moans as they stumble out the hotel and head down the strip, watching the world flee past them, separated by  **a**  bubble of romance, oblivious to everyone else.

‘We should go to a bar. A gay bar,’ Darren suggests, followed by agreement by Chris. Darren’s head is swimming and he knows he should stop drinking, but he doesn’t want this night to end. It’s so beautiful, has so much potential.

When Chris sees the gay bar he practically drags Darren into it, almost storming past the bouncer as he forgets he needs to show ID. They’re let in eventually though, Darren giving Chris a slight nudge to remind him to act vaguely sober.

They end up ordering a fishbowl, meant to be shared between three, but managing to finish it between them.

‘We are gonna feel dead tomorrow,’ Darren sighs, resting his straw down as Chris nods at him, fingers intertwined with Darren’s, the need to touch him one for a long of comfort and familiarity.

‘I don’t care. Tomorrow’s tomorrow. What about tonight?’

‘Tonight…oh dude, I am wasted.’

Darren sinks his head down to rest on the table, Chris stroking his curls, feeling a slight queasiness in his stomach and then a wave of relief as it goes away.

‘Maybe bed is good now,’ Chris suggests, rubbing Darren’s back. ‘Come on, we’ll go back to mine.’

‘You gotta help me.’

As it turns out, they’re both ridiculously unsteady on their feet, miraculously managing to stay on the pavement, once  **they're** outside, forgetting the very existence of cabs as they start to walk in what Chris  _thinks_  is the direction of his hotel. They get several looks from passers-by, even for Vegas standards, the boys are pretty wasted. But still they wonder on, indistinguishable slurs of words coming from their mouths, not even pretending to understand what they’re saying.

‘You know,’ Chris suddenly says, taking extra care to pronounce his words. ‘I have never, ever seen the church thing.’

‘Church? I don’t wanna go to  **church** Chris!’

‘Noooo, where Britney goes,’ Chris insists. ‘Where she gets married.’

Darren pauses for a second. He pauses everything though, his expression frozen as his walking comes to a halt, stood on the spot.

‘You mean the little chapel white-no, the little white chapel?’

‘Yeah, yeah!’ Chris vigorously nods. ‘Chapel!’

‘Ohhhh. Well I show you!’

‘Now?’

‘Now!’

As they hail a cab, they walk past a tuxedo shop. In retrospect, perhaps they should have  **bought** some.

 ----

Darren feels weird stepping out of the cab. Not in a drunk and in love way, in a cautious, apprehensive way. Because even in his intoxicated mind, he knows the things which happen here. He’d  **seen** it happen to one of his friends, once. A marriage to a guy they had met that night. He knows he and Chris are different though. This isn’t a one night stand.

Chris is refusing to admit to himself what’s happening as he walks out. The sober voice in his head has been trodden on by wine, jaeger bombs and cheap vodka, himself striding up to the venue with Darren.

‘It’s so pretty,’ Chris says, because he feels it should be, even if it isn’t.

‘Yeah,’ Darren lies, trying to admire the tacky decorations. ‘Britney’s a lucky girl.’

He catches Chris’s eye then but they don’t laugh, they just smile, walking to a bench to sit down.

‘I think I really love you,’ Chris breathes, somehow not slurring those words. ‘Am I crazy?’

‘Well I love you too,’ Darren insists. ‘So lets be crazy together.’

‘ **We're** so drunk.’

‘Drunk in love.’

‘Love…’

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ Darren moans, letting his head fall back as he struggles to keep it upright.

‘Nope,’ Chris agrees, shaking his head. ‘This is bad Chris and Darren.’

‘I can’t tell if we’re here because we’re in love or because we’re drunk.’

‘I think it’s both!’ Chris shouts, even though there’s nothing to shout over.

‘What do you wanna do?’

‘One slip of paper, D. Then it’s forever.’

‘Forever and ever.’

‘Do you think it could happen?’

‘Never say never.’

‘Darren,’ Chris says, sitting up, kissing Darren on the lips between each word. ‘Will.You. **Marry**.Me.’

Darren tries to look at Chris, but  **everything's** blurry, dizzy, moving.

He tries to think but he can’t. So instead, he says what feels **is** right.

‘I’d love to.’

They almost run inside the venue but then Chris trips up a bit and they resort to walking in slow, purposeful lines.

‘Hello!’ Chris says to the lady in the reception desk, who looks like she wants to roll her eyes at what she’s seeing. ‘We’re here to get married!’

She gives them forms and asks them if they want it done as quickly as possible or if they want to book a date. As Darren talks, she nods, already knowing the answer.

‘As soon as possible! Now!’ Darren says, pointing to the clock to make sure she understands.

They can barely hold their pens, but they make it happen. Chris’s signature doesn’t resemble his signature at all, more like a baby’s scrawl. But the paperwork gets accepted, and they’re led through to another room.

‘Are you okay?’ Darren asks, clutching Chris’s hand.

‘I’m in love,’ Chris chuckles. ‘But yeah, I’m okay. Are you?’

‘Never been better.’

They’re made to sign more forms and then stand up, repeating vows. Some rings are produced, apparently part of the marriage fee. Cheap  **metal** is exchanged and put onto fingers, more vows are copied, attempted speeches which turn out to be embarrassing slurs of sentences. But soon, all too soon, the registrar says the sentence both boys are so desperate to hear.

‘I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss if you want to.’

They don’t need to be told twice, Darren lunging onto Chris and picking him up, lips locked as they seal their marriage with what Chris feels is the longest kiss known to man, Darren not breaking away until he thinks he may suffocate if he doesn’t  **breathe** properly soon, Chris wanting to hang onto the moment for as long as he possibly can.

When they break apart, they seem lost, not sure of what to do or where to go.

‘Perhaps you should go home now,’ the  **lady** who **wed** them tells them. ‘Get some sleep, it looks like it’s been a long night.’ There’s a taxi ordered for them, Chris and Darren mistaking their concerned efforts to get them out the building for politeness and hospitality. It’s only when Darren thinks back to the ceremony that he  **realises** he cannot remember half of it. Chris agrees, and they put it down to tiredness.

When dropped off at the hotel, Chris wanders off into the bushes for a bit. Darren’s not sure what he’s doing until he hears retching, the sound of Chris vomiting making Darren so concerned he starts crying.

‘Chris,’ he asks, rubbing his back. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Chris nods, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

‘Come on,  **let's** go to bed.’

It takes more than a couple of attempts to unlock Chris’s hotel room door, but when they do, it’s Darren who’s now rushing to the toilet, coughing up what feels like half the night as he shouts to Chris not to come in the room, that he’ll be okay in a few minutes. Chris occupies himself by trying to create a romantic bedroom setting. He can’t find roses so instead picks up the fake sunflower on the kitchen table, tearing off it’s aesthetic yellow petals and chucking them on top of the duvet, pleased with his efforts. He then decides to strip, because from the movies that’s always sexy, and is quite naked and lying on the bed by the time Darren reappears.

‘Oh!’ Darren exclaims as he sees Chris stark naked and sprawled out in front of him. Darren’s still feeling somewhat ill, but the sight of Chris like this is a welcome distraction.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Chris replies, sitting up. ‘Isn’t there something about consummating this marriage?’

‘There is indeed,’ Darren says, climbing up on top of him. ’Let me just get undressed, and we can get right to business.’

‘No,’ Chris shakes his head, tugging at Darren’s belt. ‘Too. Much. Hassle. Just take these off and off we’ll go.’

Darren squirms out of his pants with some difficulty, but eventually he’s half naked, dick quite flaccid in a clear protest against his blood-alcohol levels.

They kiss for a while, drunk and sloppy, but still neither of them manage to get more than half hard, Chris looking down at his penis in dismay.

‘I dunno,’ he mumbles, trying to stroke himself to hardness. ‘Sooo drunk.’

‘Yeah,’ Darren sighs. ‘Maybe blowjobs would help.’

Chris lies back, smiling.

‘Go ahead.’

Darren’s never one to turn a blowjob down, and loves giving as much as receiving. Opening his mouth, he begins to lick the slit of Chris’s penis, feeling it twitch slightly in his hand. Encouraged, he begins to press his mouth down further, Chris moaning loudly under him. It’s Chris’s first blowjob, and he can’t help but feel happy that Darren’s giving it to him. His husband- no, no, he didn’t like that think. Feelings of panic begin to sink in and suddenly he’s turned off again, closing his eyes as he tries to concentrate on the blowjob.

As Darren carries on though, the feel of such a large object (because yes, Chris is fucking hung) in his mouth begins to make him feel sick again and he stops, pulling off Chris’s  **dick** and wiping away the trail of saliva which strings from his mouth to Chris’s slit.

‘Why d’ya stop?’

‘Feel ill,’ Darren mumbles. ‘Maybe no sex tonight.’

Chris is still only half hard, and with feelings of illness coming back again, Darren is pretty much completely soft.

‘Sleep?’

‘Sleep.’

Once the light has switched off they fall asleep almost immediately, alcohol swarming their brains as their eyes closed, Darren still half dressed as he pulls the duvet past their bodies, trying not to think about what will greet him in the morning.

 

 

As it happens, it’s his stomach which wakes Darren up the next morning. He winces, stroking it slightly, still half asleep. He feels something weird though, the feel of metal on skin. He must have some weird  **jewellery** or something on, he decides, lifting up his head and immediately sinking it back down as he’s hit with a thunderous headache. He lifts his hand up from the duvet, examining it. On his fourth finger, left hand, there’s a cheap looking, metal ring. He frowns before his eyes widen in shock, memories flooding him.

 _No….no, it can’t be_. But yes, he remembers. Blurred images of getting married invade him, and the sickening dread of what he’s done combine with the nausea settled in his stomach. Chris, where was Chris? he thinks, looking at the empty space in the bed next to him.. But then he hears Chris, the unmistakable sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom. The sound almost makes Darren want to chunder himself but with ret difficulty he keeps his food down, stumbling into the bathroom and opening the door.

‘Chris?’

Chris is visibly ill, an orange tinge round his mouth as he flushes the toilet. But his cheeks are wet too, and eyes red. He’s been crying.

Darren leaves  **returning** with water which Chris takes gratefully. But then he sees the ring on Darren’s hand and he’s crying again, sobbing against the toilet seat.

‘Hey, hey,’ Darren soothes. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We got fucking married!’ Chris howls. ‘What the fuck have we done!’

‘I know it’s not ideal,’ Darren breathes, pausing as Chris vomits some more. ‘But we’ll sort this out.’

‘How?’ Chris sobs.

‘You can get an annulment or something. I’m pretty sure of it.’

Chris just shrugs, turning away from Darren.

‘I just want to go home.’

Darren pauses, looking at Chris. He looks so vulnerable, so young and lost like this.

‘Do you hate me?’ Darren asks.

‘What?’

‘Do you hate me? If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened.’

‘No, no,’ Chris shakes his head. ‘I suggested it, I remember that. I just…I hate myself.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Please just leave me,’ Chris begs. ‘I feel so ill. Please just go.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Darren whispers, getting up to close the door and sink back into bed.

 

It’s not until two hours later when Chris reappears, looking slightly better and no longer crying. Darren’s still nursing a fierce stomach ache, lying on the bed.

‘Hey,’ Chris says, joining Darren. ‘Sorry for being so moody earlier.’

‘It’s okay. I’m sort of mad at myself too.’

‘But if I had to be married to anyone,’ Chris sighs. ‘I’m glad it’s you.’

Darren nods but then winces, headache still there.

‘I looked up annulments,’ Darren tells him. ‘Because we were so drunk, we can end the marriage today. It won’t even count as a divorce; it will be like it never happened.

‘Okay.’

‘I’ll be ready to go in a few hours. Just feel like shit right now.’

‘Same. Darren?’

‘Yeah?’

‘If we can end it that easily, how about we do it tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘We could have one proper night as a married couple. Just to see what it’s like.’

‘For like, what?’

‘I dunno. The experience?’

‘I guess it would be interesting.’

‘I understand if you want to end this right now though.’

‘No, no. As long as we finish this tomorrow.’

‘Of course.’

‘To be being married.’

‘To being married.’

 

Towards the evening Darren starts to feel better, and Chris books a table at a nearby restaurant for 9pm.  **They** both agree they’re sticking to water though, Chris almost feeling like he was going to puke again after looking at last night’s wine glasses.

A shower seems to cheer Darren up, and he looks much fresher coming out of it, even if he is dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Chris had offered some of his own for Darren to wear, but Darren had  **shaken** his head, saying they wouldn’t fit. In truth, he thought Chris’s wardrobe was terrible, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. He decides he can’t be blamed, the town where Chris comes from doesn’t sound particularly fashion-forward.

After several glasses of water and a little bread, both of them finally begin to feel like normal again, Darren taking two paracetamol as a precautionary measure. Chris copies, anxious to keep a headache at bay.

‘I think if I stick to carbs, nothing rich, I’ll be fine,’ Chris says.

‘It’s weird though, isn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘Well, you’re my husband now…that’s fucking crazy.’

‘Please don’t say husband,’ Chris begs. ‘That makes it sound all too real. You’re sure we can get an annulment tomorrow?’

‘Positive,’ Darren nods, absent mindedly stroking the ring around his finger.

‘This is so weird,’ Chris continues. ‘The more I think about it, the worse it seems.’

‘Let’s not think about it then. We made a stupid, stupid, mistake which we can sort out tomorrow, and one day, this will all be a funny story. You won’t even have to say you were once a married man as once we get an annulment, the marriage will be considered illegitimate.’

‘Okay,’ Chris says, feeling somewhat reassured. ‘I’m just never drinking again.’

‘There are  **worse** people to be married to,’ Darren jokes, trying to make light of the situation. It works and Chris laughs, agreeing.

‘Yep. In hindsight, this could be so much worse.’

 

Their dinner is surprisingly romantic, the waiter lighting a candle between the two of them, noticing the rings on their fingers.

‘So how long have you two been married?’ he asks, smiling at them both.

‘Three years,’ Darren lies, smiling back. ‘We’re practically an old couple.’

Chris almost snorts at that, turning it into a cough in an attempt to cover it up.

‘God, imagine what he’d done if I had said less than a day,’ Darren says once the waiter has gone. ‘That would be so embarrassing.’

‘Yeah. Here’s to being an old married couple.’

Chris clinks his glass of water against Darren’s before tucking into a dish of pasta, Darren munching on a pizza next to him.

‘If we were an old married couple we’d probably be arguing by now,’ Darren jokes.

‘True. And then I’d give you a look, like a glare or something, and you’d shut up.’

‘You think you’d be in control of the relationship?’

‘Well, yeah?’

‘Jeez, is there a feisty little Chris in there which I don’t know about?’

‘Perhaps,’ Chris winks. ‘It’s very deep inside though, you’ve gotta really annoy me before it comes out.

‘So I’m doing good so far?’

‘You’re doing very good.’

‘Old couples literally do argue so much though,’ Darren continues. ‘I mean, my parents are still happily together and everything, but married life just seems boring , you know?’

Chris shrugs. ‘I dunno, if you’re with the right person it could be good.’

Chris catches Darren’s eye before looking away, blushing.

‘Anyway,’ Darren says, wiping his mouth on a napkin. ‘What do you say about going back to mine after this?’

‘Okay.’ Chris can’t help but feel both nervous and excited about that. He can remember vaguely (and by vaguely, he recalls five seconds) Darren trying to give him a blowjob last night, but both of them  **have** yet to bring that conversation up **.** Chris supposes not being able to get hard should be embarrassing, but seeing as Darren was in the exact same position and they were both way past drunk, he’s not too bothered.

Chris pays the cheque, something which Darren offers to do but looks somewhat relieved when Chris insists he pays. And then they’re out the restaurant and getting a cab, a bundle of butterflies nestling into Chris’s stomach.

 

The cab ride to Darren’s is something Chris wants to stay in forever. Darren’s next to him, holding his hand and kissing his neck, undoubtedly leaving thick bruises there.  **Chris** tilts his head back, letting Darren ravish him. He feels a hand go up his shirt too, a finger brushing over his nipple again and again, before Darren’s hand focuses on stroking the thin trail of hair from his belly button to the waistband of his pants. It doesn’t take long before Darren’s trying to sneak his hand down inside the waistband, Chris hard and eager to be touched, Darren just as eager  _to_  touch.

But then the cab stops and they’re at Darren’s place. Now Chris is hard, he’s more eager to do something than nervous about what might happen. He wants it to happen- whatever ‘it’ is. Honestly, as long as he’s with Darren, he doesn’t mind.

 

‘What do you want to do,’ Darren murmurs into his ear once they’re in the bedroom, Chris sitting down on the bed before being pushed back by Darren, who keeps kissing him, much to Chris’s delight.

‘Don’t mind,’ Chris breathes, kissing back. All he wants to do is be touched by Darren, but having never been with a guy before Darren, he’s not too sure what to say.

‘Do you remember last night?’ Darren enquires, now stripping off his clothes, Chris following suit under him.

‘I remember a failed blowjob,’ Chris laughs. ‘Like, a few seconds of it.’

‘Oh god, that was so bad,’ Darren says, pulling has pants off to reveal his own cock achingly hard where it’s trapped inside his boxers. Chris reaches out a hand, stroking Darren over the thin cotton, Darren moaning audibly, looking down at Chris’s hand.

‘God, you’re so hot, **'**  Darren mumbles. ‘Let me suck you off- properly, this time.’

‘Okay.’ Chris can’t say yes  **fast** enough, letting Darren take off his boxers, Chris then nudging Darren to take off his own, feeling overexposed as the only naked one on the bed.

Chris can’t tear  **his** eyes away from Darren once he’s naked, his soft tan body so beautiful Chris wishes he never has to leave this room. Darren doesn’t seem  **too** concerned about his own penis, looking only at Chris’s,  **where** it’s a flushed pink and resting against his stomach,  **its** long length tilting bending slightly to the left.

Darren leans in to touch it, Chris almost withering on the bed as Darren strokes it gently before taking a firm grasp of the base of it, hand brushing against a few trimmed pubes. Like an expert, he leans in to press a kiss against the glistening head, taking in the taste of pre cum Chris is already producing.

‘Fuck,’ Chris moans, bucking up his hips. ‘Fuck, do that again.’

Darren obliges, sliding his tongue in small circles over the slit before pressing the head further in his mouth, taking care not to graze his teeth against Chris’s dick. Chris is doing his best not to moan too loudly, but it’s hard to control the sounds his body makes as Darren continues to suck him off. He’s having no problem getting fully hard tonight, and neither is Darren, who’s jerking himself off fast as he begins to suck harder at Chris, moving his mouth up and down, encouraged by each whine Chris makes.

Darren knows Chris won’t be able to hang on for long though, given the fact he’s never properly been sucked off before. So when Chris’s thighs start to clench up Darren pulls off, stopping to kiss Chris’s belly for a few moments, letting the boy recover. But then Darren moves back to his cock, licking long stripes up the base, following the line of the thick vein which runs up Chris’s length.

‘Darren,’ Chris moans softly. ‘I’m close.’

Not wanting to miss out on giving Chris the last bit, Darren returns to sucking the head, long sucks where he concentrates on the movement of his tongue. He can feel Chris tense up under him and knows what’s about to come, hot spurts of cum filling his mouth seconds later, Chris whimpering as he comes, Darren keeping his mouth on Chris’s dick, only pulling off when Chris is definitely finished. He  **jerks Chris off after** , only moving his hand away when he knows Chris will be too sensitive.

‘You like that?’ Darren teases, wiping away an escaped drop of cum from his chin.

Chris can only sigh underneath him, lazily reaching out a hand for Darren’s dick, Darren shuffling up to kneel next to him. Chris starts to jerk Darren off, the angle feeling more familiar now but still slightly strange. He knows the feel of Darren’s dick though, warm and thick in his hand.

Chris sits up after  **a**  few moments, looking at Darren nervously before pressing his own mouth to Darren’s cock. Darren encourages him, rubbing the back of Chris’s head with his hands, pushing on it gently to get Chris to start a rhythm. The taste is better than Chris expected, but the feeling is still strange, and he’s not sure how much of Darren he’ll be able to take in. Opening his mouth wide, he sinks himself deeper onto Darren’s dick before pulling off, licking his lips before starting again, this time bobbing his head back and forth.

‘Good, you’re doing good,’ Darren tells him. ‘Right there, move your tongue too.’

When Chris does move his tongue, licking over Darren’s dripping slit, Darren knows he’s not going to last long at this, not having just had Chris cum in his own mouth. Chris carries on for a few more seconds before Darren feels the tell-tale knot in his stomach, balls tightening.

‘Okay, get off,’ he warns, not wanting Chris to have to swallow his load on his first time. Chris pulls his head off just in time, Darren jerking himself off through his orgasm, his own hand collecting his cum. When he’s done Chris is still curious though, licking one of Darren’s fingers, wanting to know the taste.

‘It’s not good, is it?’ Darren smiles.

‘I could get used to it.’

‘Fuck,’ Darren says, eyebrows raised.

‘What? It is Sin City, after all.’

Darren can’t argue with that. Tossing Chris a tissue to clean himself up, Darren wipes off his own dick, flinching at how sensitive he feels. When they’re done, lying in bed with the duvet pulled over them, Chris looks over at Darren.

‘I meant what I said last night, ‘he begins.

‘What?’

‘I really am falling in love with you.’

‘Me too,’ Darren says. ‘I think I’m already there.’

‘But we should totally get divorced first.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Darren agrees, serious. ‘Tomorrow morning. Definitely.’

\----

The next day they get an annulment straight away, no exchanges of humour as they sign some legal looking forms, both of them looking thoroughly embarrassed as they explain why their marriage was illegitimate. They’re met with some disapproving looks but mostly; the staff look like they’ve heard it all before, which brings Chris and Darren a little relief. They walk out with papers confirming the marriage was invalid due to intoxication, something Chris intends on burying in a drawerand hiding from his friends and family forever.

‘I take it you’re not going to frame it?’ Darren asks, waving his own piece of paper in the air.

‘Nope,’ Chris shakes his head. ‘Are you?’

‘I think I love it so much I’m gonna put it in a very safe place where no one can ever steal it.’

‘Or see it.’

‘Yeah,’ Darren laughs. ‘So, as an official unmarried couple, what shall we do?’

‘Couple?’ Chris is curious. He doesn’t know what he and Darren are, or what they even  _should_ be.

‘Well, as opposed to a married couple. What would you say we are?’

Chris shrugs, undecided.

‘Does a label really fit? I dunno, we’re Chris and Darren aren’t we?’

‘Chris and Darren,’ Darren repeats. ‘That sounds nice. So where now?’

‘Well,’ Chris starts, slipping his hand into Darren’s, their legs almost rubbing together from how close together they’re walking. ‘As I’m leaving tomorrow, I thought I’d better get some new clothes for auditions and stuff. All of my own are-‘

‘Dreadful,’ Darren butts in.

‘Okay, that’s kind of a strong word but yes, they’re dreadful. You wanna come with me?’

‘Of course. I’m spending as much time with you as possible. There’s a good shopping mall nearby if you want.’

‘Okay. Are you working tonight?’

‘Yep. I’ll come say goodbye in the morning though.’

‘I warn you, I have to leave my hotel by eight thirty in the morning.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Darren promises.

In the shopping mall, Chris ends up buying two pairs of skinny black jeans, no matter how horrible and tight they feel, he’s encouraged by Darren’s words that he looks ‘fucking hot.’ He also buys a black v neck t shirt, a few shirts, and a ravenclaw t shirt he manages to find.

‘Harry Potter!’ Darren squealsexcitedly. ‘Dude, that shirt is awesome.’

‘Unlike all the others.’

In truth, Chris doesn’t really like  _any_  of the clothes he’s bought. Darren tells him they’re fashionable and Chris knows it’s true, he’s seen celebrity men and men in magazines wear similar stuff, but it all just feels so weird and unnatural on him. He feels more at home in Target, shopping with his mom.

‘No,’ Darren insists. ‘The others are all good. Suitable for any audition.’

Chris decides he’ll force himself to like them when it comes to going to auditions, paying for his Ravenclaw t shirt, unashamed of the slight giddy feeling he gets when it’s handed to him and officially his. They get a quick snack, hot dogs from a stall outside the mall before Darren turns to Chris.

‘So, where are we going now? I’ve gotta head to work in a few hours, going in early for some extra rehearsal. It sucks, I just want to spend time with you.’

‘It’s okay,’ Chris says. ‘I’ve just got to pack, and I was going to have an early night anyway. This week has made me exhausted.’

‘I know.’

‘Promise you’ll come see me off tomorrow morning though?’

‘Promise.’

Getting a cab back to Chris’s place, Darren starts to wonder what life will be like when Chris is gone. Realistically, Darren can’t afford to be paying visits to Los Angeles and his work means he can’t leave for long even if he could afford it. It’s clear to both him and Chris thattomorrow really is goodbye and there’s a quiet, subdued feeling about them.

‘So how much is there to pack?’ Darren asks, trying to keep the conversation light and casual as they walk into Chris’s hotel suite.

‘Not much, just my clothes and stuff. It won’t take long. ’Chris seems to be taking care to not touch the subject about leaving too, voice short and clipped.

‘Well, I’ll clean up the living room a bit if that’ll help.’

‘Thanks.’

Darren doesn’t take long to clear it up, straightening cushions and putting Chris’s stuff- laptop, books, reading glasses and a few other things he finds- on a table whilst clearing up the rubbish into a bin. He then puts all empty glasses and bottles next to the sink. Meanwhile, Chris is packing, folding clothes into a suitcase, hisactions dull and soulless. Eventually, when Darren’s completely done, he goes to the bedroom to find Chris.

‘Hey,’ Darren says. ‘So I’m all done through there, I think.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You need help with that?’

‘No, no I’m good.’ Chris’s voice shakes slightly, voice wobbling.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Darren says, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

‘Yeah,’ Chris replies, taking a deep breath. ‘I’m just sad to be leaving, you know? I’m going to miss you- oh shit-‘ he wipes a tear away from his cheek, embarrassed at having started crying. But Darren’s eyes seem to be glistening too.

‘No, don’t be upset, okay?’ Darren chokes. ‘It’s gonna be fine, there’s no point being sad. I’m gonna miss you tons too Chris.’

‘It’s just knowing that I probably won’t be seeing you again.’

Darren doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s skype, texting, all of that. But he’s not dumb, and neither is Chris. There would be little hope in building an online relationship over something that happened over a drunken few days.

‘You never know,’ Darren says, pulling Chris in for a hug. ‘And seeing as I have to go to work in about half an hour, we might as well enjoy the few minutes left.’

He kisses Chris slowly, for once not in a sexual way but in a loving, compassionate way. Chris kisses back, trying to give out feelings and words into the kisses, because he does not think he can physically say how he feels. He doesn’t know how he feels. He just knows he doesn’t want to leave Darren. Not yet.

They end up falling slowly onto the bed, both boys lying ontheir sides to face each other, kissing slowly and carefully, concentrating on the feel of it.

‘Don’t leave me,’ Darren whispers at one point, not really meaning it because he couldn’t expect Chris to do that for him.

‘Come with me,’ Chris answers, meaningit as much as Darren. They’re exchanging useless words for comfort, the truth too painful to accept.

‘Do you have an audition set up yet?’ Darren mumbles, moving his kisses to Chris’s neck, little light pecks of worship.

‘I think so. My manager'strying to set me up with an audition for this TV show.’

‘Do you know what it’s about?’

‘Some high school comedy. There’s singing in it, somehow.’

‘Can you sing?’ Darren asks, still kissing Chris’s neck.

‘I think so,’ Chris says, not wanting to sound too cocky. ‘I’ve been in a few choirs and stuff.’

‘Can I hear?’

‘Sing with me.’

Darren arches his eyebrows up, finally smiling again.

‘Duet? What do you want it to be?’

‘I dunno. What’s your favourite song?’

‘Oh god, it’s one I actually wrote myself. I’m so self-obsessed, I know,’ Darren laughs.

‘Sing it for me.’

‘Do you actually want me to? It might be a little rough around the edges. **'**

'No, go on, please.’

‘Okay, hold up, I’ve got the lyrics on my phone somewhere…’

Darren scans through his phone before finding the music score and lyrics, sitting up and clearing his throat.

‘Don’t judge me, okay? I haven’t sung this for a while.’

‘I want to hear,’ Chris insists, smiling encouragement.

And so Darren starts. He starts softly and quietly, Chris a little in awe of how good he sounds. He thought Darren would be good, but not this good. As Darren goes on, he grows more confident, the words louder, clearer.

 _‘‘_ _I've been alone_  
Surrounded by darkness  
I've seen how heartless  
The world can be  
  
I've seen you crying  
You felt like it's hopeless  
I'll always do my best  
To make you see  
  
Baby, you're not alone  
'Cause you're here with me  
And nothing's ever gonna bring us down  
'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you  
And you know it's true  
It don't matter what'll come to be  
Our love is all we need to make it through...’’

Darren says the words with such meaning Chris can’t help but feel they could have been written for him. Darren breaks away from the lyrics often, eyes staring at Chris, looking him in the eyes as he carries on singing.

‘’Now I know it ain't easy  
But it ain't hard trying  
Everytime I see you smiling  
And I feel you so close to me...  
And you tell me:  
  
Baby, you're not alone  
'Cause you're here with me  
And nothing's ever gonna bring us down  
'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you  
And you know it's true  
It don't matter what'll come to be  
Our love is all we need to make it through...  
  
I still have trouble  
I trip and stumble  
Trying to make sense of things sometimes...  
  
I look for reasons  
But I don't need 'em  
All I need is to look in your eyes  
And I realize...’’

Darren nods to Chris and Chris sits up, looking at the words and music on Darren’s phone's screen before joining in. It takes him a few moments to get the tune and adjust it for his own vocal range, but when he gets it, they sound perfect together.

Baby, I'm not alone  
'Cause you're here with me  
And nothing's ever gonna take us down  
'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you  
And you know it's true  
It don't matter what'll come to be  
Our love is all we need to make it through...  
  
Oh, 'cause you're here with me  
And nothing's ever gonna bring us down  
Cause nothing, nothing, nothing  
Can keep me from lovin' you  
And you know it's true  
It don't matter what'll come to be  
You know our love is all we need  
  
Our love is all we need  
To make it through...’’

They hold the last note for longer, neither one of them wanting to stop. But eventually Darren does, breathing heavily.

‘I love you.’

And then Darren kisses Chris before he can reply, quick, heavy kisses which Chris struggles to break away from, his body intent on being fixed to Darren’s for as long as possible.

‘I love you too,’ Chris replies, the words rushed, heavy, but truthful, him meaning every word. This feeling'sentirely new. The feeling of caring so deeply about someone not in his family, of eternal butterflies in his stomach at so much of even thinking about Darren’s name, the way his heart, his soul seems brighter when he’s with Darren. It must be what they called love.

They stay kissing for a while, both boys too lazy in love to want to go further, sex far from their minds as they focus on just  _loving_  each other. The seconds slip away into minutes though, each moment cherished, loved. But all too soon Darren sitsup, cursing.

‘Crap, I’m gonna be late, I really have to go.’

Chris understands. There’s only going to be one more chance to see Darren now.

‘Goodbye. Have fun.’

And he means it. He raises an eyebrow, smiling.

‘I will. I’ll pretend every customer is you.’

‘Give them a show worth paying for. ‘

‘It always is.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Absolutely.’

And with that, Darren runs out the door, checking his watch anxiously. Chris is left alone, but he doesn’t do anything. He’s not hungry, and there’s not much left to pack. So instead, he just lies in the bed, relishing in every memory he has of Darren. He doesn’t want it to end.

It has to end though. The end starts at half eight, when there’s a knock on Chris’s door. He’s tired and only half awake, suitcase almost ready to go, and almost trips over his shoes in his rush to answer it.

He kisses Darren before they say anything, Darren’s body feeling so familiar against Chris’s.

‘Good morning,’ Darren greets.

‘Morning.’

‘So, you all set?’

‘Almost. Just got an hour with you.’

‘I vote for cuddles.’

Cuddles happenon Chris’s bed, the boys slipped under the duvet, fully clothed as their arms are wrapped around each other, savouring the feel of being soclose. They’re kissing again, more rushed than before but still gentle, the ticking of the clock on Chris’s beside table a startling reminder of urgency. And suddenly, before Chris can scare himself out from saying it-

‘Make love to me.’

‘Hm?’ Darren asks, not quite believing what he had heard.

‘I want to have sex. Now.’

‘Chris, I don’t want you to rush your first time.’

‘No. I was thinking about it last night. And I want it to be with you. I know that.’

Chris blushes as he says it, the words feeling so strange for him to say, now going back to being alone and his old, schoolboy self. But Darren, being Darren, relieves his embarrassment straight away.

‘Okay,’ Darren nods stroking Chris’s face. ‘Okay.’

There’s more kissing and fumbling next, Chris trying to take off his clothes as fast as possible, Darren helping him before removing his own. And then they'renaked, slightly sweaty, Chris’s heartrate beating fast, his own dick only half hard, nerves beginning to twist in his stomach.

‘Hey,’ Darren coaxes, kissing Chris. He takes hold of Chris’s dick, beginning to pump up and down, the touch making a pool of arousal replace the butterflies in Chris’s stomach. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘Can I,’ Chris mumbles. ‘Can I top? But you er, ride me.’

‘You want me to bottom but be on top?’ Darren asks, his spare handreaching around his own back, fingers beginning to press against his hole, his own dick now hard and aching, trapped between him and Chris.

‘Yeah. Yes please,’ Chris breathes, trying to ignore the hand on the clock, saying they only have forty minutes left.

‘Great,’ Darren grins, kissing Chris. ‘Do you have lube?’

‘There’s some in the drawer,’ Chris says. ‘I don’t have condoms though.’

‘I’m clean,’ Darren immediately says. ‘Haven’t done anything since I last got tested. You?’

‘For a virgin, I’d say I was pretty clean,’ Chris jokes.

‘I don’t think I have any condoms on me. Not in my wallet,’ Darren says. ‘Do you mind doing it without? I can check?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Chris says.

‘You sure?’

‘Trust me, I’ve thought about this.’

‘I can see you have, Mr I’ve-packed-everything-but-my-lube,’ Darren jokes. ‘Looks like someone was planning something.’

‘Shut up, you,’ Chris says, poking Darren playfully in the stomach. ‘Do you need help…preparing?’

‘Not much,’ Darren says. ‘I’m still loose from my own antics last night.’

Chris raises an eyebrow.

‘Come on, what was I meant to do? I couldn’t stop thinking of you and I got horny.’

Chris blushes furiously at that, biting his lip.

‘Can I?’ he gestures to Darren’s ass, where Daren is currently working at stretching himself open, two fingers scissoring in his puckered hole. Darren flips round so he’s on his fours, ass up in the air and facing Chris.

Tentatively, Chris slides a finger in, finding Darren’s saliva already there as a way of lube, but pausing to add some proper lube, the cold of it making Darren shudder.

‘Sorry,’ Chris says, sliding his finger in. The feel is unbelievable. Having Darren clenched round him like this- being  _inside_  Darren, makes Chris’s head rush, dizzy arousal overwhelming him. He’s not prepared for the way Darren arches back at him, clenching his butt as a beg for more, another. Obeying, Chris adds a second finger, almost whining out loud as he begins to move themslightly, wriggling them up and down slowly, exploring the feel of Darren.

‘Fuck you feel so good,’ Darren breathes. ‘Add another, I’ll need three.’

Chris pushes a third finger in, glad he’s cut his nails recently as he struggles to slip it in before it disappears inside, Darren gasping at the stretch before telling him it’s okay that he should movehis fingers around more. Chris is trying his best tonot think too much at what he’s doing, because he’s pretty sure he’s not far away from coming himself, and this is way too early.

‘That should do it,’ Darren says after a while leaning forward as Chris withdraws is hand, wiping his fingers shamelessly in the duvet. ‘Do you want to lie down?'

Chris shuffles down so he’s lying flat on the bed, head propped up by a pillow as he watches Darren get up, squeezing a dollop of lube into his hand before beginning to stroke Chris’s dick with it, lubing Chris up.

‘Oh god,’ Chris moans, hips bucking up automatically. ‘I’m  **not** going to last long.’

‘It’s okay. Neither will I.’

And then Darren’s removing his hand, straddling Chris so that his ass is just above Chris’s dick, Darren’s own cock bobbing in the air, Chris staring at it. Holding Chris’s dick firmly, Darren lines up the head of it with his own hole, pausing to look Chris in the eye before sliding down on it, wincing slightly before getting used to the feel, lowering himself fully.

‘Don’t move,’ he warns Chris, who looks as if he’s fighting the urge to rock his hips up. ‘Not yet.’

Slowly, Darren takes a few deep breathes before beginning to lift himself up and down, starting to ride Chris’s dick. Chris has never felt so turned on in his life, smiling as it hits him that  _fuck, he’s having sex right now with Darren_ , eyebrows furrowed and lips apart as a shiver runs down his spine, as if shards of electricity are shooting down his body. He moans softly, then loudly, which Darren smiles at, glad to see Chris vocal.

‘Be as loud as you want,’ Darren encourages. ‘I wanna hear you.’

Chris gives an even louder moan at that, surprising himself with how much noise he’s making, unable to contain himself. Darren’s moving faster  **now** , practically bouncing up and down as he carries on riding Chris, ignoring the beginnings of pain in his thighs.

‘Darren, I’m gonna come soon,’ Chris says, almost sadly. He doesn’t want it to be over, he never wants this feeling to be over. The feelingof not only having sex with, but also making love to Darren. The way his limbs seem to be tingling, his stomach twisting, balls tightening. His dick has never felt this good. The tight warm feeling of being inside Darren unforgettable. Finally-

‘Fuck!’’ Chris moans as he comes all too soon inside Darren thighs tensing up as Darren continues to move up and down, not surprisedthat Chis has come so soon. But then Daren’s coming himself and he  _is_ surprised, but maybe he should have guessed that he would not last long, not with Chis coming inside him like this. He waits until he can’t bear it any more before sliding up off Chris, collapsing beside him. There’s streaks of Daren’s cum on Chris’s stomach butChris doesn’t seem to mind, watching itdry there into a thin crust of white, the markings of sex.

‘I love you,’ is all Chris can say, turninground to look at Darren.

‘I love you too.’

And it’s true. Every word.

There’s a silence, a long, treasured silence before Darren talks again.

‘We’re not going to make it, are we? With you in LA and me here.’

Chris is silent before replying. He replies with logic, reality.

‘No.’

‘I wish I could run off with you. Follow my dream.’

‘So do I.’

‘Just need to save enough money first. Give me one or two years.’

‘Who knows,’ Chris replies. ‘Perhaps we’ll both get roles in a TV show.’

‘We could even be co-stars, it could happen,’ Darren says, preferring the delusional chat to the reality of saying goodbye.

‘Never say never,’ Chris replies. ‘We’d be secretly in love. Our fans will never know.’

‘Oh, they will,’ Darren says. ‘I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes off you.’

And then they just hold each other, never once letting go until Chris’s alarm goes off. There’s few tears, quickly wiped away as they both attempt to smile, to keep things happy. They walk down the stairs with Chris’s luggage, a taxi awaiting Chris outside. There’s a hug and a kiss, one final moment of intimacy, before they have to say their one last goodbye.

‘Goodbye Darren,’ Chris says, sobbing gently.

‘Bye. Look after yourself yeah?’

‘And you.’

‘If we’re meat to meet again, we will do,’ Darren whispers, rubbing Chris’s shoulder. ‘And if not then- wellit was a pleasure knowing you.’

‘Goodbye.’

That’s all Chris can bring himself to say, stepping inside his taxi and waving through the window, driving further and further away as Darren got smaller and smaller. Who knew if they’d meet again. Probably not, Chris knew. Chris was off to try his luck at this new TV show, and Darren wouldn’t be following that dream until a while. But, like Darren had said- it could happen.


End file.
